


Perchance to Dream

by taffywars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Implied Han Solo & Leia Organa, Romance, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 68,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taffywars/pseuds/taffywars
Summary: A series of unconnected scenes which take place the close of day, or perhaps the close of something. Spans the time frame of the OT and anything beyond ROTJ is AU. Rating may change.
Relationships: Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker & Han Solo
Comments: 52
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

Luke was going over the day, in his mind. Not the same as Leia, who held a meeting the end of each day of the mission. "Now then," she'd say, "How is it we're still alive?"

"I love it when you ask that," Han would declare happily. "The answer is usually 'thanks to me'."

"It most certainly isn't," she'd usually retort with an indulgent eye roll. Today she wasn't having it. She added, "In fact, I was going to bring up you firing your weapon needlessly that has me ask this same question day after day."

"Today was a sniper," Han said sternly.

"He was just a man on the roof."

"With a blaster."

"He could have been hunting pigeons."

"He could have been hunting princesses, and he almost caught one."

"If he was indeed an Imperial, then surely you know he'd miss."

Today's meeting, or argument, as Luke liked to call them, went on a little longer than usual because they were in a barn, and it was warm, and the hay, though prickly, made a nice mattress to sleep on. The animals inside made soft noises, and Luke liked that. He was having trouble falling asleep.

Today was day six of the mission. The _Falcon_ felt like she was half a world away, set down inside a patch of prairie on Liberty IV. Luke figured they were just going to hope to bump into her upon return, though Han was drawing a map as they went. They had to travel by foot, or, if they were lucky, by straw-littered cart. Luke hadn't taken his boots off, though Han told him to. He was afraid they wouldn't go back on. He had blisters.

He'd never been on a world like this. It hadn't been a member of the Old Republic, but it was part of the Empire. It was pretty young as human settlement went; less than twenty thousand years is what Luke had learned. Part of the isoclan movement- hence the name Liberty IV- where some zealot took his followers where there wasn't anyone, and they lived without benefit of the modern age.

Now that he was learning more about the movement, Luke wondered if maybe Tatooine had been part of the isoclan movement, one that failed. The humans on his homeworld numbered very small, and the longer he was offworld, the crazier it seemed to call a desert planet under two blazing suns a home.

Most of the isoclan communes had failed; they either starved or became part of the food chain. Some resumed use of technology and contact with the rest of the galaxy, and over time you couldn't see remnants of the former way of life. Tatooine, if Luke's theory was true, fell in that category. There was no other way to get water without forcing condensation from the air. One also couldn't walk the desert; exposure and thirst killed one pretty quickly, so the humans got around in speeders.

But that was Tatooine, very different from this lush, temperate world. He had to tell himself to stop making comparisons and watch out for pigeon-hunting snipers instead, but his mind had bookmarked the place. Maybe someday, when all this was over, he would return. It was pretty quiet, even in the villages they passed through. Luke had never realized how much noise a generator or motor made.

Liberty IV had isolated itself successfully, and farmed, or whatever the residents did with their lives- it was nice farming, Luke, former farmer, thought- but change had come. Not slowly, with thinking and deliberation or even from the passage of time, but probably in one day. In one moment, Luke was willing to bet. The moment the Empire landed.

Luke wondered if the Imperial ship set down in the prairie like they had. Probably not. Probably right on top of one of the villages, which is why the Rebel Alliance was getting reports of uprisings, and which explained his own furtive presence, along with Han and Leia on Liberty IV.

Would Liberty IV join the Alliance? Luke didn't know; he had no desire to shape futures like Leia did. But he did like to help. Liberty IV wanted to preserve its way of life without interference from the Empire, and he thought that was a valid cause.

Except his feet really hurt.

"I hope tomorrow we get to ride in a cart," Luke had mentioned in the meeting, to shut his companions up. Going over a day's events was fine if they could make any changes for the next; arguing about who was more cool in a situation was useless.

"I've already arranged with the farmer," Leia announced crisply. "He wants to sell a bull and is bringing it to the next village for trade. He's agreed we can come along. It's about eighteen miles from here."

"I'll take it," Luke sighed. Then he glared at Han and Leia. "And we're alive because we're lucky," he told them with finality, and crawled off on his knees to his straw bed.

Neither Han nor Leia could argue with that, so they talked about what to do once they got to market, and Han put another coating of bacta gel on Leia's neck, and pretty soon they all fell quiet.

They had been lucky this time, for real. It _was_ a sniper, and he did almost catch a princess. The bolt had only grazed a spot on Leia's neck- the crook of the shoulder. "He missed," she insisted. "Otherwise I'd be dead." And Han _had_ saved her; the sniper was loading the rifle to take another shot when Han's aim hit faster and true.

The trio had taken off running, Luke amazed that Leia was able to run. Han had grabbed her wrist and was probably pulling her along. A shopkeeper had beckoned them inside his establishment, and sneaked them out the back door, and told them to go to the meat market and find help from a man wearing a black scarf.

They must have seen fifty black scarves. That wasn't luck; the scarves were a hidden symbol of the local rebellion.

On his mound of straw, Luke thought about the tangled web of fate. If it weren't for the Empire's missteps, the people wouldn't be wearing black scarves, and Luke wouldn't be here, either. And Leia would still be Alderaan's Princess, not hiding in a barn hissing that her wound was merely a heat blister.

Maybe it was the gentle shelter of the barn. He wasn't scared of dying; he'd come close before. But when it was close he was busy trying to avoid it, and when he was safe he was too happy to think about it. He just didn't want it to happen here, or now. Well, to be honest, he didn't want it to happen to Han or Leia.

"Ever think about your last words, Leia?" Luke said into the darkness. Along with the soft sighs of the animals, one was tolerant and definitely human.

"She's asleep, kid," Han answered him, his voice quiet and deep. It didn't disturb the animals, and Luke didn't see that it woke Leia, either.

Luke propped himself up on his elbow. "She ok?" He asked his eyes to tell him more than just the vague shapes on the ground, but they needed time to adjust.

"Yeah. She's right that it did barely graze her. Bet it stings though."

Luke nodded into the darkness. The bacta gel had a pain reliever that caused drowsiness. She wouldn't apply it in the morning, he knew, no matter how it felt.

"What would hers have been?" he asked. "Her last words."

"'Shut up, Captain'. You mean before falling asleep?"

"No, I mean before if that sniper got her."

"Um... I don't know. Something about trade routes."

"Mine would be 'my feet hurt'."

Han chuckled.

"It's not funny," Luke protested.

"Sure it is," Han said. "I was saying something like 'get down'. Usually it's something like that; 'run', or 'fuck' or 'gods damn it'.

"Sounds like you've had a few last word moments."

Han grunted. He wasn't in the habit of reviewing his life. Probably why it came close to ending so often. "Yeah. That's the way it is, right?"

"No," Luke said. He lay back down, eyes up at the rafters. "Mine's going to be peaceful. I'm going to be ready."

"You are, huh?" Han sounded amused.

One of the barn animals sounded like it had stood up. Luke wondered if he and Han were making too much noise. He said, "Yeah. I'll be old."

"So what's it gonna be, these last words?"

"I don't know yet. Something deep."

"Guess you got time to think of something, since you're not old."

"Yeah. I'm working on it."

Now Han sounded like he wanted to prepare to sleep. "You do that, kid."

"Well, you too. And Leia."

"Sure. Anything you say. You take your boots off?"

"No."

"You should. It's just gonna get worse. Use some of that gel."

Luke heard movement, and rested on his elbow again. Now his eyes picked up the gleam of the moon's light that came through cracks in the barn's boards, and he could see Han rustling in the pack. Luke saw Leia beside Han, curled up and facing him. She was positioned on her good side, but she was pretty close. The gel must have knocked her out quickly.

That was the thing about Leia. She found a way to end an argument. And the thing about Han was he might not be arguing in the first place.

Han tossed the tube of gel over and stretched himself back out on the straw, one arm behind his head. "We packed plenty, so use it."

"You're just trying to get me quiet," Luke accused. "And sleep."

"Nah," Han mocked. "Don't want your last words tomorrow to be 'my feet hurt'. Tryin' to save your dignity and all."

"Huh. Thanks." But Luke was grinning. Black scarves and Empires, and he never would have predicted he'd be here. The moisture fields of Tatooine before Han and Leia felt like he'd imagined them.

Luke might not be scared of death, but he was scared of seeing his feet. He decided he'd take the boots off in the morning, and he could sleep the eighteen miles on the cart, Han and Leia arguing over his dozing form.

"Good night, Han."

"Famous last words."

"They're good ones."

"So's 'see you in the morning'."

"True. I like the promise in that one."

"Shut up already."

Luke smiled. The barn animals snuffled. He wondered if they dreamed.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's pretty far," Han had said, the navigation logs casting his face in a blue light. He switched the system off with a satisfied flourish, and Leia thought what a marvel he was. He still thought he had accomplished something.

She had shaken her head but couldn't hold back a fond smile. _Watch this_ , he had said.

_Watch me evacuate the Princess out of Hoth on the Falcon._

_What do you mean, no hyperdrive? Then I'll hide in this asteroid field._

_So that wasn't a cave, huh. I'll take my chances with the Empire. Disguise the Falcon as Imperial garbage and half-float my way to Bespin._

He knew a man on Bespin. That's what he was proud of. _Watch me find a solution in my logs. How about that, Princess._

The lighting in the cockpit fell back to quiet and dim. It had been a long, exhausting day. Han sat in the captain's seat of his damaged but beloved ship, looking all at once hopeful and sorry and confident, that she forgave him his impulses and bravado, and saw him for the man he was, and kissed him on the cheek.

_Watch this, Captain._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the fiasco of Ord Mantell, which marks an end of something for Han Solo. Cruder language and one of the longer installments. I like the poetry of the short ones but it's also nice to dive deep.   
> Thank you for reading!

The captain's seat was familiar and comforting, but Han felt like a phony. He sat with his fingers spread flat on the console, like he was going to use it for leverage. He pretended to be doing his part but Chewie was doing all the work.

He didn't see he had any more leverage. He'd run out of options.

He felt weird. Like he'd surrendered.

"Coordinates are set," Leia announced. Her voice was grim. Not quite sour, but if Han looked for it, he thought he should be able to find it, the acid.

She was moving away from the nav'puter, moving on the next thing, and he risked a glance at her. Her eyes were brown, like they always were. And worried, or worse. Something in them that never left, through all the setbacks. Hope. It would be foolish in any other's eyes, but it was there, glowing like a core fire. Her drive, her determination: they were fired by hope.

He was a setback. And she was beautiful.

"The faster we get back to base the sooner we put this behind us," she said, still grim, and she left him to it, and he glanced down at the console, burning.

Get back fast- she thought he could still? After that abysmal failure-

It kind of killed him that she was an ally of his ship, when for so long it was all he had. But he wasn't jealous, not of her. But there it was, she setting coordinates and Chewie doing preflight and him just sitting there. Even his ship had moved on. And it would do as she asked, as he boasted. Hers was a request, a need. His was opportunistic, self-serving. Of course his ship would change sides. He would too-

And it hit him.

The burning shame, the constant searching of her eyes. The desire to no longer be a setback.

Like a stun bolt. Quick and hard, then nothing. Waking is when you realize you've been hit. Then it hurts like a bitch and it's too late. Han looked at his hand on the console; checked to see if it was shaking like his insides felt.

Chewie punched the hyperdrive and the _Falcon_ slipped through the stars without leaving a trace. Ordinarily, this was what Han loved about flying, how he could just disappear, bringing nothing with him, leaving nothing behind.

Right now it made him feel lonely.

"Where the hells have I been, Chewie?" he muttered.

Chewie looked at his partner with some sympathy. "Out there," he indicated with a toss of his head out the cockpit.

Whatever he meant, Han had no idea. Sometimes he thought he didn't understand the guttural growls of the Shyriiwook language as well as he thought. Or he didn't understand Wookiees in general, for they were looking at- nothing. Or maybe that's what Chewie meant. Han was nothing. He sure felt like it.

Han rubbed his face hard with his palm. "Three years, Chewie," he told his partner. "I fucked up."

"It was bound to happen," the Wookiee offered. Damned gracious of him, Han thought. Like his ship, Chewie wasn't too judgmental.

"No, I mean-" but Han broke off, because he didn't know what he meant. Or maybe he misspoke. Not an action of fucking up. A state of being. Han Solo was a fuck-up. Or he was fucked.

He told Chewie, "Damn bounty hunter. Tellin' me I should feel guilty."

"That's why I shot him."

Han looked at him with disbelief. "For psychobabble? I don't think so. For Luke, maybe."

"For all of us."

Han nodded. "It was a good shot."

Chewie nodded back. They were a team, after all. "It did the trick."

"I do a little, though," Han admitted. "That's the thing."

"Feel guilty? Don't tell me you fallen for the psychobabble?"

Han shook his head ruefully. "Not for that, no."

The Wookiee jerked a shoulder up. "I suppose you could feel guilty. It was your bounty."

"Thanks," Han responded sarcastically.

"You said it yourself, Obliger-"

"Don't go all formal on me. Don't-"

"I am reminding you of our roles," Chewie lectured. "What I did today is for you. For I am obliged to you all of my life. The sad thing is, I'll do it again. Some Life Debts are absolved with the owner's natural death of old age, mind you. I would like that."

"Old age ain't for cowards like me." Han did feel guilty, he realized, but it wasn't the bounty hunter that put it in him. It'd been in him three years, from them back there, Luke, and Leia. That they didn't know half the shit about him they should, that she shouldered the whole damn war just now and a small time, _asshole_ smuggler almost lost it for her.

"It is actually welcome to hear you say it," Chewie said with gratification. "You have a great set of afterburners, my friend, and you keep them in prime condition so they are ready when you need them. Much longer than three years, I have watched you leave, and leave all to the imagination. I have learned something today. You have a breaking point."

"Luke's back there on the medcot."

"I'm well aware of that. He'll be fine." Wookiees didn't concern themselves much with a medical crisis. Their tolerance for pain was much greater than a human's, and pain was non-productive. "The Princess is looking after him."

"Yeah, the Princess." Han sighed. "Did you hear her? 'The faster we get there.'"

"She knows how to coax the best out of someone. Or something. Even the ship. Do you feel those engines?" Chewie rubbed the thick pads of his furry feet on the floor of the cockpit.

"Yeah," Han said somberly. "Weird to think the _Falcon_ actually responds to her, when she don't always for me. I hate to think my ship loves her more than she does me."

"Is that what this is? You're jealous?"

"Hells, no! It's just...everyone loves the Princess. Luke, he gets shot for her. My bird, that baby flies for her. You- you saved the war for her. Everyone does stuff for her. And what do I do. I bring her my bounty hunter."

Chewie was eyeing Han sidelong. "At least you do something," he said, trying to ascertain just that the hells his partner was driving at. "Look at it this way: if it weren't for your bounty, then Luke couldn't get shot for her, and the _Falcon_ couldn't fly so smoothly-"

But Han shook his head and Chewie saw his usual teasing wasn't going to cheer him up. He narrowed his eyes at Han. "Just what are you saying? The the things you do for her are ruinous? Yet, you do things for her because, like everyone else, you love the Princess."

Han slapped his thigh. "And you know I didn't know that? I'm serious, Chewie."

"Oh, I believe you are," Chewie growled. "I forgive you for being dense. Out of curiosity, though, what did you tell yourself?"

"I don't know," Han grumbled with self-disgust. "The money."

"Figures," Chewie nodded.

"When she set the nav'puter," Han continued, "and she didn't yell, and she didn't lament, and she didn't..." he paused to think of all the things she could be towards him, could have done to him. "She didn't hate me. That's when I realized. That I-" But he couldn't say it.

"To know you is not to blame you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"She sees money because you tell her it's what you see. When she doesn't listen to you, she sees something else."

Han lowered his voice, spoke like a prayer, the first time he consciously thought it, "Three years, and all that time, all that stupid shit I do. It's love, aint' it?" He dared look up into Chewie's eyes, his chest squirming and tight, looking for confirmation. It was actually embarrassing. He scrubbed his face again. "I'm so fucked," he groaned.

"No, you just wish," Chewie said.

"Stop joking around," Han snapped.

Chewie sighed, and brought his hands to his thighs, grooming the fur with long claws. "You know, I am only a Wookiee, but it seems to me humans declare their love to the beloved. That's what a male Wookiee does anyway. We approach the female, and tell her, "You will have my cub."

"Yeah, that's beautiful," Han said, barely listening. "Did you know?"

"Did I know your feelings for the Princess?" Chewie cocked his head, eying his partner affectionately. "As you say, it's been three years. Love is seldom instantaneous in humans. Would you say you loved her when you winked at her during the Medal Ceremony?"

Han grinned privately, remembering the celebration just a few days after he met the Princess, when he was flush with reward money and a reputation for being a hero. "Nah, I was just playing around. Wanted to see if I could get her to smile at me."

"That is not love?"

"It's not going up to her and insisting she's gonna bear my young, if that's what you mean," Han said darkly. "It wasn't even flirting. It was that damn ceremony."

"Ah, yes. I know how you are in solemn occasions," Chewie nodded sensibly. "All that death and happiness. You get overwhelmed and start acting like a fool."

Han was thinking too hard to be slighted. "I never tried to get her in the sack, either," he said thoughtfully. "I actually wondered about that once. Why. 'Cause it's what I usually do."

"Maybe you feared her rejection. The Wookiee male must fight the female who rejects him. What kind of dishonor would it be if she defeated you?"

Han scowled and threw his partner a scornful glance. "I've been rejected before. I do a lot of rejectin' myself. There's always another."

Han imagined Leia considering his offer. _Come on, Sweetheart, let's go to bed. Let's try this out._ But the words would die on his lips, for he knew; he already knew. She, serious and determined, with those glowing brown eyes, would obviously shake her head and say politely, yet firmly, "No, thank you, Captain."

A guy like him, he'd posed to Luke, and Luke had flatly refused him. "No."

"It's Luke's fault," Han said now to Chewie.

"Oh, come now," Chewie was disgusted. "He's back there helpless on the medcot, and you want to blame him why you love the Princess?"

"It's absolutely his fault," Han insisted. "It even goes back three years, almost from the very beginning. He didn't want it to be possible, a guy like me and a Princess. He wanted her for himself. So," Han nodded righteously, "I stayed hands off for him. Not my fault she didn't go for him."

"She hasn't gone for you, either. And yet here you are, barely escaped from a bounty hunter, and you are so far gone it isn't funny."

Han sobered. "Yeah." He could still hear her voice. _The sooner we put this behind us._ "I gotta do something."

"You want some advice?"

"You're gonna give it anyway," Han nodded. This was beyond him. He was overwhelmed. It was too bad, he thought, too sad. It should be a joyous occasion, the realization that some other soul struck you, that their mere existence added meaning to your own, that you wanted them to be a part of yours. Instead he felt… kinda hopeless.

"You could tell her," Chewie suggested.

Leia, with her flame of eternal hope, and him, with his constant burning shame. She wouldn't even love him out of pity. She would sooner put him behind her.

He wanted her to love him. Maybe not instantaneously, not even the whole three years. Close, though. Right? Because he never left. Han Solo, with the Great Disappearing Act of a ship, kept flying back, into her radar.

"Tell her," Han repeated bitterly. "She'll say, 'I'll take it into consideration, Captain.'"

"You don't know that."

"That's what she'll say." Han was obstinate. "And that won't do."

"So don't say anything," Chewie countered, checking a gauge. "That's your other option. Keep on like you do, swallowing your feelings but hanging around, and maybe, say in another three years, you'll feel used and you'll fly away. Or maybe, after three years of taking it into consideration, she will love you back."

"I can't keep doing this," Han moaned. "I can't even look at her. Not now that I- shit."

"You might fall out of love," Chewie said brightly. "I believe love can die." Chewie shrugged. "Wookiees mate for life. Humans say they do, but they lie. You have divorce and remarriage. We don't."

"I can't look at her," Han despaired. "Do you hear me? I can't ev- I won't be able to work with her."

"Slow down," Chewie warned. Too late, he saw where his partner was headed. "This is a bad day-"

"No. That's it. It's done."

"- and you said yourself she doesn't hate you. What if-"

"How many more bounty hunters is it gonna take, Chewie?"

"You are making excuses. What if-"

"We can't take that chance. At all. I've got to set it right-"

"You better be talking about the Princess and Luke, because three years is a -"

"I've got to get Jabba off my ass."

"The Princess might even-"

Han's voice was final with decision. "We're leaving."

Chewie's great head sagged to his chest and he sighed. "Again?"

"I've put my life on hold for them-"

"Oh, here we go."

"Shut up."

"The life you just said wasn't worth anything. If I were you, I'd rather spend it here, with them," Chewie tossed his head back to indicate the _Falcon's_ tiny medbay, "rather than in some cell in Jabba's palace."

Han swallowed, and he weighed Chewie's alternatives. There was Jabba, slimy huge Hutt with an appetite for blood, or there was Leia, steel-spined and doe-eyed. The one certain thing was Jabba would always be there.

Han was a gambler. He wasn't willing to bet his heart but he'd bet his life before, and he was still here.

"I've made my decision," he told Chewie. "Now get back there and see if she needs any help."

Chewie switched the board over to Han's side, and for a minute that was all he did. Looking to keep fighting, Han knew, but Chewie was older, and he was wise, and maybe he was a bit of a gambler too. He had bet on Han, and he was still here.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was warm but the wind was cold. The sun was also setting. The shield that separated the western portion of the city from the eastern went up an hour after the work day was done. It gave the Easterners time to use transportation and get out. Han and Luke were late but you never knew. Maybe they'd make it out.

Both were clad in large, roomy cloaks with hoods. Han's was dark gray and Luke's was brown. They had their hoods up and Luke kept being reminded of his old mentor Ben when he looked at Han.

The delay was unfortunate, only in that Luke would miss a good, hot meal and the bunk on the _Falcon._ He thought they'd be okay on this side of the shield. It was a local matter that divided east and west, not the Empire. They would just have to obey by the rules. A curfew kept everyone off the streets and if he and Han were caught trying to leave that _would_ raise the attention of the Empire and of course that concerned Han and Luke the most.

Han was flying the speeder patiently, tough for him. It meant obeying the local fly laws, but he kept checking his chrono and cursing the other pilots. He kept both hands on the steerer and his fingers drummed on it with nervous energy.

Suddenly the directional lights started flashing. Luke checked his own chrono. "Two minutes," he said.

Han squeezed the steerer like he wanted to strangle it. "We're not gonna make it," he said.

"No," Luke agreed.

"So let's stop trying and think about how we're gonna spend the night."

"OK." Luke nodded. "We'll have to call-" he remembered at the last moment to use Leia's code name- "Mom."

Han flashed him a wry look. He hated her code name but at the same time he loved using it. "Curfew's at nine. We got time. We need to ditch the speeder."

"OK." Luke didn't like Leia's code name. He didn't like his either. Kid. And Han's was Dad.

The reason he disliked it was they fell in to this weird family dynamic all because of a stupid name they only used in case a stormtrooper happened to be listening. He didn't mind family; they _were_ one, kind of, so why couldn't they be siblings? Bro and Sis?

Leia was always bossy, but down here she said things like, "listen to your mother." And Han- the truth was Kid was Luke's name because Han _always_ called him Kid, no matter who was listening. Stormtroopers or rebels. But now he was calling him Son.

"What do you want to do?" he asked Han without using his code name. Still, he was content to let Han take the lead. It's what he usually did. Han wasn't bossy exactly, but he was experienced.

Han pulled over and stopped. He fished a credit chip from his pocket. "Go in there and get us something to eat."

Luke nodded. Inside a store- it was a kind of bakery, and it sold cheese too, and a yellow milk. It wasn't blue, but Luke was willing to give it a taste. When he emerged, Han was waiting for him a good distance away from the speeder. He faced the airway, his eyes dark and glaring, doubtless still cursing the pilots with their quiet lives who had someplace nice to spend the night.

Luke showed him his purchase. "Think we can get a room?" he asked.

"Too risky," Han shook his head. "Let's head back this way. That residential area near the border."

"The run-down one?"

"Yeah. They won't like troopers on their property."

"We're gonna knock on their door?"

Han scoffed. "'Course not. Find a shed or something."

They found the desired neighborhood after an hour of walking. It was dark now, and it was hard to see Han's cloak in the night, but Luke wondered if anyone was alerted to their presence by an animal's barking and happened to peer out the window. Then he wondered if the homeowner would call the authorities.

Han dragged Luke around until they found the perfect place. The home itself was sweet, or anyway it had been a few years ago, but the current owner parked eight speeders on the lawn. The engine blocks were off to the side. Some were covered with a tarp and others were open.

Han took out a knife and cut off the section of tarp that hung below the fasteners. He worked quickly, sometimes not looking at his handiwork but with his eyes roving the surroundings. He handed the section of tarp- longer than Luke but not much wider- to Luke and began to cut himself a piece. "Your bedding," he hissed with a wink.

Reluctantly, Luke spread it on the ground under a dilapidated speeder. The craft must have been propped up on ratchets for some time, for the ground underneath it evidently had not seen the sun in a long time. There were pebbly seedlings blown down from trees, dried leaves and needles but little grew in the patch of dirt.

Luke stretched out while Han arranged his piece of tarp next to Luke. He set himself on his side and pulled out his comm, using his body to hide the light from the unit from any unwitting observers.

"Keep your voice down," he said to Luke, who hadn't said a word. Han waited a moment, then in an almost-whisper, said, "Hi, Mom."

Luke heard Leia sigh. "Are you boys safe?"

"Yeah. Missed our appointment with prejudice."

Luke grunted. That was perhaps the most concise description of the reason for the shield he had yet heard, and he definitely appreciated it. He ripped off a hunk of fresh bread and passed it to Han.

"Uncle Chewie and I have been waiting," Leia was saying. I've been worried sick- if you were detained-"

"Aww," Han said and winked again at Luke. "Hear that, Son? Mom cares."

Luke leaned over so Leia could hear him. "We're good, Mom. We'll see you in the morning, promise."

"Better have a big breakfast prepared," Han said. "It'll keep me moving, just knowing how you're standing by that hot stove, all sweaty, stirring with love-"

"Dad," Luke complained. "That sounds really disgusting."

"Your son is correct." There was a smile in Leia's voice. "You've sent regards?" That was code for tracking position.

Han grunted. "'Course."

"Local authorities use drones with heat sensors."

"Great." Han and Luke exchanged an uneasy glance.

"We got it covered," Luke mostly lied to Leia, just to ease her mind.

"Listen to your father, Kid."

Luke rolled his eyes and Han chuckled. "As long as I'm your favorite," Luke told Leia.

"Goodnight, boys."

Luke and Han ate bread and cheese in silence. The milk was good. Not as thick and creamy as blue milk, but it had a nutty flavor. They discussed the curfew, and calculated that they had eight hours before they were allowed to be seen walking again. Luke would keep watch the first four.

They settled down. It wasn't very comfortable, but Luke wasn't about to complain. "I'm going to meditate," he informed Han. "Practice my Force."

Han's hands were clasped over his belly. "So long as you're paying attention. Don't fall asleep."

"I won't," Luke promised. "Ben taught me that it actually heightens your awareness, so I'll know if anyone is slinking about looking for us."

"Troopers don't slink."

Luke looked up. The speeder blocked his view so he shifted a few inches, where he could see the sky in a gap between the speeder and ratchet. The night was a dusky black, with little starlight. Too much light pollution, he realized. He saw Han was watching him, his face toward him.

"Do you admire her?" he asked Han.

"You're askin' if I admire my wife?"

"Well. You know. But yeah."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do," Luke stated. It was obvious, like saying his eyes were blue.

"Just to be clear, admire is to what on Tatooine?"

"Look up to someone," Luke said. "What's it on Corellia?"

"Same. Just checkin'. Yeah, you could say I admire her."

"I have since the moment I saw her. I told you about it, in the holomessage."

"I remember you telling me all sorts of things. That she was in distress, that she was beautiful, that-"

Luke cut him off. "It was complicated. But yeah. All that. And since then, all this," he waved his hand to incorporate all the time and adventures they had shared together, "I admire her even more."

"I'd say you're close to sounding like you worship her."

"Lots worship her. I know you don't."

Han lifted his fingers. "I look up to her. I look down, too; she's short." Luke shook his head. "I also," Han continued, "look at her, 'cause like you said, she is beautiful; I'll give you that. Look behind... not so much, unless Darth Vader is there and I got to shoot. In front in case she's gonna slug me-"

"Will you be serious for one minute?" Luke complained again.

"It's different when you're married."

"Which you're not. You're hard to talk to, you know that?"

Han shrugged a shoulder. "Levity makes light of the enemy."

Luke blinked. "What?"

"I said-"

"Where'd you get that?"

Another jerk of the shoulder. "I said it."

"You took it from Ch- Uncle Chewie. Didn't you. It's a Wookiee saying?"

"It's a me saying," Han wasn't offended. He tapped his chest. "A So- From your wise old Dad. Careful, or soon you'll admire me much as your Mom."

"Sorry, _Dad_ , but you don't hold a candle to Mom."

Han's teeth gleamed white in the dark from his smile. "All I'm sayin' is she wakes up with bad breath, same as me."

"Oh, that'll be lovely come morning," Luke said sarcastically.

"Same as you," Han said pointedly. "Now, what'd we say each sleep shift is?"

"Four hours."

"Right, and you've used up ten minutes of mine talkin'. That ain't fair. You're supposed to be practicing your Force."

"I am." But Luke quieted, stretching out with his feelings. He saw love, and brotherhood, and family, and he tried to project his own shield around the speeder, so that the aggression he felt out in the shielded city stayed away.

XXXXXXX

Oh, his feelings were stretched out alright. And his body was tight, his muscles tensed. The sky had hummed a few times; it might have been a drone but no light shone down. Infrared, Leia had said. Maybe they didn't need a light-

He didn't know how much time had passed. Nothing was happening, which was unnerving. Like Han driving the speeder, it was hard to wait. Luke fought boredom and calm. He focused on Han's breathing, an almost-snore, and on the quiet rustle in the lawn of things moving, the chirp of insects, the distant howl of an animal.

But after a while he couldn't take it anymore and Ben's brief lessons were no help. Luke announced in a fretful whisper, "Something's crawling on me."

Han was asleep, Luke knew, but he was a light sleeper, and made a noise. "Mmph."

Not enough to wake him up. "Dad." Luke assessed the slight tickling on his cheek. Could be he was overreacting. Could be his hair, blowing in the wind a little, sneaking under their shelter? Or, if it was indeed not his imagination, then... so what? He was an obstacle and something awake needed to get past?

Luke rolled his eyes sideways to see if Han had anything crawling on his face. There wasn't much light. He knew where the scar on his chin was, easily located the bridge of his crooked nose. Doubtless there was the shadow of a beard, but no moving shapes.

Had C-3PO listed any dangerous creatures? Luke thought back to the briefing as a delicate- not a caress; a tapping, two legs, out of - two? there were more? caressing? Was it preparing his body for something? Was it going to eat him? Poison him? Or lay eggs in his ear, and he would be a host- kriff-

Luke gritted his teeth and pushed his friend's name out between clenched jaws. He didn't want the creature to detect the movement of his facial muscles, and in his discomfort completely forgot the code words. " _Han_."

"What," Han groaned, bothered with noise reaching his slumbered state.

"I think a spider is crawling on my face."

"Let it crawl."

"I want you to see."

"Why?"

"To know if I'm right."

Han sounded annoyed. "And then what? Just brush it aside."

"What if it crawls up my sleeve?"

"I don't do spiders, kid."

"Well, then it's a beetle. That better? Six legs out of eight."

Han's voice was sarcastic, but he sat up, remembering the low ceiling of the speeder above him just in time. The light hadn't changed much. Luke could see the gleam of his eyes in the darkness. "You're able to distinguish legs?"

"I distinguish something. Give me some light."

"Give yourself some. Actually, don't. You're on watch. It's my sleep shift. Leave me alone."

"What if it interferes with my Force?"

Han was stretched out again. "Everything interferes with your Force."

The crawling sensation continued. Luke swore there was a tugging at the corner of his eyes. He reached a hand up to his cheek. "Oh my gods," he swore out loud.

"I'm not gonna get any sleep tonight, am I," Han said.

"I'm gonna look," Luke warned.

"Fine."

"I'm gonna use the mini beam. I apologize in advance if any stormtroopers see it."

Han was sitting up again. Luke saw him out of the beam of tiny light. His Force sense also told him Han was very awake. Ready to flee, in fact.

"Holy shit, kid."

Luke plucked something off his face and met Han's eyes- they were wide- before he dared take a look at the thing in his hand. It wriggled a little, legs working in midair.

Han had his blaster out.

"Don't shoot me because of it," Luke whined.

The thing was- Luke didn't know, but he set it on the knee of his pants to take a mental picture before setting himself free of it. Colors was the first thing to hit his brain. A bright yellow shape, about the length of a first finger knuckle, with dots- it looked like a scary face; a dark hull... it was a hull. Shiny, maybe maroon. Hard looking, like metal. A tail, or the head? It was tongued, stiff. Tail, then. It looked sharp, for sure; probably stinging or stabbing or poisonous, and Luke was glad that wasn't the part near his eyes. Neither spider or beetle. Did worms have legs?

"It's a larva," Han said in the same tone of voice announcing Darth Vader's presence.

Luke didn't mean to, but after realization sunk in- this was the thing on his face; big when you set it against a cheek, and armored and, and tailed- he sort of shrieked. And he made a flinging motion, and the thing was thrown from his leg. He heard it land.

"Should I check on it?" he whispered. "Make sure it's not upside down?"

"Who the kriff cares," Han said.

Both men froze as they heard noise.

"It's working for the Empire," Han stated.

"The Empire doesn't deal with non-sentients," Luke contradicted him.

But they gathered their stuff anyway. Luke wasn't going to sleep and had to leave the chewy bread behind, but he didn't mind. He had his lightsaber out. He felt much better to be standing, on the move.

"Let's go find a tree," Han suggested in a whisper.

 _"There they are!"_ a helmeted voice cried out in excitement.

"Sorry," Luke breathed as they took off in a run.

"S'okay." Han fired his blaster behind him. Luke had tried to tell him not to do that, especially at night, because it gave away their location. Han never listened. "Maybe I'll get lucky and hit something," he'd say.

"I'd rather fight the Empire than a caterpillar," Han said. "Helps to know one's enemy."

"There you go again," Luke panted. "With the little Force nuggets."

They were running in a zig zag pattern, swerving away from each other and then meeting again. "I think that's why I woke you," Luke managed to whisper roughly before he zagged away.

"You know," Han said hopefully, "the troopers are breaking curfew too."

Luke didn't add what he'd been thinking during his meditations. How his admiration of Leia gave him a goal. He would learn the Force and become a Jedi and finish fighting the Empire until one of them wasn't left. And he was thinking of Han and how he didn't like calling him Dad, even though he was older and experienced. Han wasn't Ben; he wasn't a teacher and he wasn't interested in being one. But still, Han had a way of throwing lessons in Luke's path.

They ran through the back yards and woods of the neighborhood while troopers used the airways on speeders, chased by the Westerners. They were close to the border, and it would be fine if they managed to not get shot. Leia was tracking them, and she would pull them out, just like she always did.


	5. 5

Sunset.

The orange glow of the room, the dusky blue under it.

And he was dipping below the horizon.

It went quick, a sunset. Slow if you kept your eye on it, lingering like it couldn't bear to leave, but if you looked away it slipped and then it was gone.

A creeping cold was at his feet. Night. But he held on. Kept his gaze on _his_ sun, blazing white and intense.

She gave him warmth. She gave him reason.

She made a sun _rise_.

And then it was night.


	6. Chapter 6

Leia kept her eyes on the meal tray as she lowered it to the table. The tray held a foam plate, piled high with a stew that was more beans than meat, a large hunk of bread, and a cup of tea. She was dutifully attending fourth meal, even though she didn't think the extra food helped her stay warm. The tea inside the cup was sloshing side to side a bit. Maybe from her shivering. She slowed her movements, letting the tea settle, and she could tell Han was watching her. Luke was busy with his food.

"You look cold," Han observed needlessly as Leia chose a seat opposite him and next to Luke.

Luke greeted her like a normal person, "Hi, Leia."

"Of course I'm not cold," Leia lied to Han. She was wearing her quilted snow suit and the svelte suede gloves.

"You got my text," Luke grinned at her.

"I answered you," Leia pointed out.

"Oh, right," Luke said. He had only gotten in a few hours ago from patrol with the Rogues. Han had been gone, too; he'd landed his freighter from a smuggling run after first meal. Luke looked at Han. "Funny way of greeting each other." Then he looked at Leia, to see if she agreed with him, but apparently not, for the corners of her lips were curled from either side of her tea cup and her eyes were on Han.

Han lifted a few fingers as if his existence was self-explanatory. Leia sipped, eyeing Han from the lowered position of her head. During the walk from the dispenser to the table the tea had changed from steaming hot to tepid.

Next to her, Luke still wore his hat. Leia hadn't seen his ears in months. He ate his meal with his gloves clumsily gripping the fork. Han, evidently, was only keeping Luke company. There was no tray in front of him.

"Even your voice is cold," Han said. His ears were nice, somewhat pink but grazed by little waves of dark hair. His ungloved fingers were long, stained at the knuckles from something.

"The frosty tone is reserved for you," Leia retorted.

Of course he liked that. He leaned back, scraping a jacketed arm against the ice wall.

It was a jacket from his own wardrobe (if smuggling freighter captains had such a thing), and it didn't appear to be overly warm at that. He didn't comply with the required dress, but he didn't have to, since he wasn't enlisted. Leia cast a critical eye over him while he grinned smugly at her, wondering which of the possibilities she came up with was correct.

He could be thumbing his nose. At the Alliance, or at Hoth's climate, or even at her. Or all of the above. It wouldn't surprise her. Or, he didn't have the right gear and damned if he was going to ask and he was shivering inside. Or, maybe his repeated boasts of being a hot-blooded Corellian had an actual bit of truth, and he didn't feel the cold as deeply as the others.

Leia scowled at him and his brows went up, his way of smiling at her. It wasn't fair, if the latter was the truth.

The Alliance established a very regimented life on Hoth, for the health and safety of its personnel. The climate and weather were as dangerous an enemy as the Empire, and one did not engage the enemy. Snow gear was required at all times, as was accepting four meals from the mess.

Even if it wasn't a military order, she would wear the protective clothing because the base was located inside an ice cavern, and it was cold. Very cold.

Meat dropped off Luke's fork. Leia's food sat untouched. She knew without needing to sample it that it wouldn't taste like much. And she thought how lately Hoth wasn't very fun. The cold dulled the senses. Even food had no taste.

"I'm cold," Luke put in. He took another stab at his meat.

"Who asked you?" Han said, turning to Luke like he forgot he was there.

Leia smiled, at Luke or at Han, or maybe both. That was why time dragged lately. She had missed them.

Luke shrugged, unconcerned. "No one. But it's like taking attendance. 'Who's cold?' 'I am'," Luke raised his fork again and gravy hung, unable to drip, somewhere between a state of solid and liquid.

Leia lost her appetite. She pushed her tray away. Fourth meal was eaten before lights out. The theory was the calories burned in digestion would keep a body warm while sleeping. Personally, Leia would need to see the science before she believed it.

She gave Luke a sympathetic look and turned back to Han. She gestured with her chin at the bare table in front of Han that indicated he had not partaken in a meal. "You look hungry."

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Always am, sweetheart."

Leia hooded her eyes and was ready with a response when Luke dropped his fork on his plate. His head swung between both Han and Leia. "We three haven't eaten together in a while," he noted.

This was true. Han nodded once and Leia gave him a smile.

But Luke wasn't being overly emotional about it. He knew neither Han nor Leia were comfortable when he gushed. He had something to point out to them. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. All he knew was he had a vague feeling Han and Leia wasted his time, talking like that, and it made him irritable. And he'd just gotten back and he wanted a nice time together with his two friends.

"So do you got to?" he complained.

"Got to what?" Han asked innocently.

"You know." Luke's eyes were directed at his plate, and he sorted the beans with some aggression.

Han and Leia looked at each other.

"We were talking about being cold," Luke grumped.

"And I said I'm not," Leia said.

"I'm not, either," Han said.

Luke stood up and snatched his tray. "You're both lying idiots, you know that? Sparks!" he fairly shouted and some faces turned their way. "Even when you're cold you're not. I'm gonna go find someone to eat with that talks sense." He stalked away and joined the table where other Rogue pilots were eating.

Leia stared after Luke a little bemused. She had no idea why he was so frustrated. It must be Hoth, she thought. But she decided not to chase after him. She could apologize later. "I wonder what's gotten into him?" she wondered out loud to Han.

"Said something about sparks," Han said. He gazed over at Luke, who was now laughing while Antilles and Janson threw pieces of bread at each other. Then he grinned at Leia, charming and conspiring. "Guess he can't take the heat."

She grinned back. She didn't need fourth meal to stay warm some nights. "I guess he can't," she agreed.

Luke stood up. He shouted over to Han and Leia, while pellets of bread bounced off his padded coat. "See? This is how you stay warm!"

Han declined to join the food fight. "I'm warm."

So did Leia. The two remained at their table.

"I'm warm, too," she said.


	7. 7

Leia entered her quarters and when the door slid shut behind her she just stood there a moment. It was quiet of course; her status as a member of High Command provided her with a single. "Solitary confinement, you mean," Luke had said. Luke, who had a bunch of roommates and just as many friends. She had prized her solitude but tonight it felt different. Empty.

Her quarters were new- the whole of Echo Base was- and white, just as all of Hoth, a snow-covered planet. The path she tread in and out of the room had turned the snow floor gray, like she was some kind of pollution. No personal effects. She had nothing to put out: no holopics, no mementos, no splash of color.

She finally moved; walked the ten steps between door to 'fresher, where at least there were some signs of occupation. A hairbrush and some pins on the counter, a can of odor neutralizer. She stared at her image in the tiny reflector. Even against her skin her brown hair was richly dark, darker than she remembered. She unzipped her vest jacket and the cold took advantage, like an invader breaking down a defensive wall.

It was a mistake, she realized, to not cast out her net. This room wasn't all that different than her cell on the Death Star, only she was the one to toss herself in this time.

She removed more hair pins and braids fell down over her shoulders. Five today: four thin ones framed the sides of her face and the last was centered at the back of her head. Her fingers worked deftly, without aid of her eyes in the reflector, and she was remembering the little terrarium she had made for the roll beetles when she was a little girl. She had a box filled with dirt, and some sticks and leaves, even though she had no idea what the little insects ate. They were shy, she had told her mother, all curled up in a ball with their armored shell protecting them, and they needed a friend. She must have put half a dozen in the box, and she spent a long time watching and prodding them and singing to them, but nothing she did could convince them to unroll themselves.

Poor little roll beetles, she thought now.

She used the sonic over her teeth and face and stripped down to her thermals but left her boots on so she could dash to the cot with her feet protected. She left the 'fresher light on. She liked a little light, and no one had said the bulbs they used generated heat and threatened to melt the snow.

The best part of Echo Base was the blankets. Each personnel was issued two. One for the cot and a smaller one for dress. They were filled with down, and thick and formless and heavenly. Leia snuggled under the large one, drawing it over her ear as she lay on her side staring at the glow of light from the 'fresher.

She couldn't sleep. She had made it so there was nothing to think about. The beetles were a luxury. Probably because Luke and Han were off planet. She was trying to decide which of them were the beetles and who was doing the singing when her comm chimed.

She sat upright and swung the blanket off. There was no reason for her comm to go off, so that meant there was a reason. Shivering in the half-dark room, she knew she needed her boots and knew it took six chimes before the connection cut off, leaving only a call number.

Leia dashed out of bed and ran to the 'fresher in socked feet. She grabbed the comm off the counter and knocked her snow pants to the floor. She ran back on her toes, her thumb jabbing at the call activation button while in motion but she missed. She jumped back onto the bed, and on the fourth chime took a composing breath.

"Organa," she answered before the fifth.

"Hey."

With a breath of relief, Leia recognized the voice. "Han," she exhaled into the comm, gathering the smaller blanket to her neck.

"You sound glad to hear from me."

He was smug, as usual. Leia knew what expression his face wore, even though she couldn't see him. The smile, mischievous and knowing, was in his eyes, overflowing to his mouth just a little.

He and Luke had been gone three days. They weren't to report so the lack of contact shouldn't have bothered her, but it did.

"I am glad." Usually she would have told him he was imagining things, but he was far away and she just wanted to thank him. "I was worried. I thought Luke would be better- that I would hear from him."

"Yeah, he's off doing his thing. Thought I should check in." His voice was quiet. Intimate, almost.

"I appreciate it, I do." Leia settled in for a talk, sitting cross-legged on the mattress and spreading the large blanket over her knees. She leaned back against the thin pillow, the smaller blanket over her shoulders. She was shivering, but not from the cold. "How's it going?"

"As I said, he's doing his thing," Han said. "Says he's _learning_." He waited for Leia to laugh. "And I'm hanging around."

"It was good of General Rieekan to let Luke check that lead out," Leia said. She and Han had had this conversation before but it was better to feel bad about repeating it than nervous.

Luke had come across some information while on a patrol mission; vague talk about a mysterious people located on the moon of the planet he was investigating. He was convinced it had something to do with the Force and upon his return had asked General Rieekan for permission to take the X-Wing and travel back.

"Not in the X-Wing," Rieekan had answered. "And not alone." The Alliance knew of Jedi Master Kenobi's tutelage of Luke before he was killed on the Death Star, and decided that lending Luke their assistance on his path to becoming a Jedi was in both their interests.

"Yeah," Han agreed. "If you ask me, I don't think it's gonna pan out."

"You don't?"

"If they're not already dead, the Jedi have covered their tracks too well. Like Kenobi, practically living next door to Luke all those years and not sayin' a word."

"Well-" Leia had thought the same thing. There were gaps, no question, but for Luke's sake she wanted to believe he would find some direction. "What has he found?"

"Nothing. Yet. It's his new favorite word. He goes marching out each morning."

"And you're hanging around. Has he marched out already?"

"Yeah, been gone a while."

"Is it safe?"

"The moon is dead," Han declared. "He carries oxygen and the grav gives him a nice spring to his step."

Leia smiled. "What time is it there?"

"It's late afternoon. Figured it was night by you. You should be asleep."

"Then you shouldn't have called."

"Knew you wouldn't be asleep." Han was frank, and Leia detected an underlying reprimand in his tone.

She couldn't argue it. "I suppose you're calling for a distraction," she observed.

Intimacy returned. "Something like that."

They were silent so long that Leia was about to end the comm call by thanking him, but then he spoke.

"Need some?" he asked.

Leia had to think what, and then made the connection. "Distraction?" She looked around her cold quarters, larger than a closet but not by much. She shook her head, knowing he wouldn't see her smile. "Sure, why not."

"Ask me what I'm wearing."

Her head retreated and bumped the thin pillow. He still surprised her, and she didn't want him to. "Captain," she began. "That's not wh-"

"Just a harmless question, Princess." This time his voice was ungoading, innocent.

Leia put her fingertips to her forehead. She knew she was going to, despite her better judgment. It wasn't flirtation. It was- weird friendship. "Fine. What are you wearing."

He smiled again. She couldn't see, and he made no noise, but she knew it. "Head to toe. My shirt, the one you like. Creamy yellow with the too-short long sleeves. Got the blue pants on today. Boots. Holster."

"Red bloodstripe?"

"That's the one, sweetheart."

"I'm not your sweetheart. You're not wearing your vest?"

"Ah, you noticed!" He was triumphant, as if he had fulfilled the reason for his call. "It's hanging around, like me. Slung over the back of my seat. It's wearing-" he broke off a short time, and Leia heard things jangle. "- there's a hyrdospanner in one pocket, a blaster charge in another, lessee... a fuser and opera 'noculars."

"Well prepared, as always," Leia observed. It was possible she had stooped to flirting. "Are you going to the theater?"

"No. But they're small. Perfect size for carrying. I don't know why more don't carry 'em. They come in handy. These ones are nice. White enamel."

She had to end the call soon. She should be asleep. He was making her... awake. "Why was I supposed to ask that?"

"So you'd learn something about me."

"I've certainly learned something about you today, Captain. You're clad."

"I aim to please."

"I'm wearing my thermals."

"Well, damn."

Leia smiled. She liked it when she surprised him.

"It's yesterday already, where you are," she informed him. "But I was up. Worrying about Luke. And you."

"Thermals, huh? If I grab the kid and leave, think we'll catch you in 'em?" The mouth would be smiling now, she knew; the eyes would hold something else, like a loneliness.

She made sure he could hear her smile. "You wouldn't be fast enough. Not even in the Falcon."

"Never am, not for you."

Their laughter was quiet and together, followed by a pause.

Han said, "I'll tell the kid to check in."

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you, Han."

"Goodnight, Princess."


	8. Chapter 8

The pain was bad enough to not let Luke sleep. He hadn't wanted to get up. He was so tired. And Leia and Han were in the- was this a room? hut?- with him and he didn't want to disturb them.

Nest, he decided. Ewoks nested in the trees. Elegantly, with tools, and laboriously, but the whole structure was a nest. They cut long branches or saplings, and lashed them together. Then they dropped bucket load after bucket load of earth in the room, and layered it with dried leaves and grass, and shaped it so their little bodies nestled in the depression.

Little was a key description. Luke, in pain, had his legs drawn up to his chest, so he fit, but Han's long legs stretched out and over the soft earth walls. The ewoks would have to reshape that nest.

There was no thatching, no kind of roof, and the light of night- an indigo glow- showed him that Leia had crawled into Han's nest. Luke envied her ability to sleep. The blaster wound to her upper arm was also probably quite painful. And he envied that she had left her own to join Han. He had half a mind to crawl in beside her, grab on to the two of them.

But with the three of them in one nest it would be confining, and if she rolled over she might touch his chest, injured from his fight with Palpatine. Well, he hadn't fought Palpatine. He'd fought- himself. And he'd won, but not before fighting, and injuring, Vader. His father. He'd forgotten momentarily.

The thought made Luke shiver, and his face screwed up, fighting tears. He hated this. Hated the pain, physical and tormenting, hated the regret, the loss. The sight of Han and Leia sharing a nest made him feel so alone, and the love he felt for them gave him a pain more intense than the Emperor's lightning.

Night was hard. All nights had been, ever since the first one, when he bunked on Han's ship leaving Tatooine.

Full circle, he thought. His home had been burned and now his chest was. His aunt and uncle were dead forever, and now his father was too.

And this was for the best?

Luke pressed his hands to his eyes. He wasn't going to do this. Another succumbing, like the Emperor had wanted. He had learned long ago: you didn't let the night press on you. You had to get up and pretend you didn't feel it. Let day come.

He could go down to the camp site, where the Alliance had set up a medical tent. Lando was down there, and Wedge. Chewie went to the _Falcon;_ he told Han he didn't want Lando in the ship longer than necessary. It sounded like the celebration had quieted; Luke wouldn't have to talk to anyone. He sat up, wincing, and looked again at Han and Leia. Her hand was under his shirt, resting on the warm skin of his belly. He blinked at them, tenderly and with remorse, and left the nest.

And Luke saw the indigo glow didn't come from space, not from stars or another moon. It was Ben, Luke's first master, and he was waiting, Luke supposed, standing by the entranceway into the nest.

Luke pretended not to see him. Ben was dead, only not forever like Owen and Beru. His father was nowhere to be seen, nor Yoda. He'd spotted their ghostly visages earlier, watching everyone dance, and they were smiling and satisfied like it was their party too, and for a few minutes Luke was glad he had made them proud, until Leia pulled him away by the arm.

It was after Han yelled at him for leaving and then hugged him again for surviving- who'd have thought, Han Solo hugging first, but he had- and led him to the medical tent so Luke could get treated for his burns, that Luke realized there was more to the Force than just light side and dark side. There was life, and it didn't need a simplistic opposite called death, and it was something Luke was determined to enjoy.

"Hello, Luke," Ben said quietly.

Luke scowled to himself. "I wish I didn't see you," he greeted in answer.

Ben acknowledged the hostility with a nod. "I'm afraid that can't be helped."

"Leia didn't see you."

"No, she didn't." Ben paused. "Does she know?"

"I told her," Luke said. "I thought I was going to die. I didn't want to leave her without telling the truth. It's a break from Jedi tradition, I know, telling the truth," Luke was sarcastic, "but I'm the Jedi now."

Ben nodded again and smiled slightly. "Like your father before you."

"No," Luke said. "Not at all like him. I figured she should know in case I died and one day you thought you needed her, even though you're dead and you shouldn't care, and you came to her in the middle of something important with that really bad timing you have. Maybe not dying in a snowstorm but having sex with Han or something."

Ben looked infuriatingly amused. "Well, it makes me happy that you three have found each other."

Luke sobered. "I was just thinking that. They've given me more than this has." He reached for his lightsaber, usually clasped at his waist, but remembered he had taken it off and set it by the nest inside.

"The Force includes all life," Ben said. "Perhaps one day your sister will be able to see us."

"I don't think she'll care to," Luke said flatly. "I'm not even sure she'll train. Check back in a few years. Even if she did, though, I don't think she'd get much out of talking to ghosts."

"It is a bridge to the past."

Luke looked sharply at his old master. "One I don't want to cross anymore. And you think after Alderaan she has a bridge? No, Leia moves forward. Seeing ghosts doesn't move the living forward."

"Perhaps you are right," Ben conceded.

"What do you want, Ben?" Luke asked. "You only come when you want something."

"I came," Ben hesitated, "to congratulate you. I see now how that is lacking." Luke snorted. "And so I am only glad to check on you."

Luke set his jaw. He wasn't completely mad at Ben, though he was. But he saw he missed the wry calm, the fond wisdom. Yoda hadn't been like that. His father probably wasn't either. He might never know.

He said very softly, "I forgave my father."

"I did too," Ben said.

"After all the horrible things I learned about him," Luke continued, "I still forgave him. Things in my lifetime- Leia and Han. He cut off my hand." Luke curled and uncurled the fingers of his prosthetic hand. "Did you know that?"

Ben looked pained. "No."

"But I can't really forgive you," Luke said. "He wasn't like you. He was afraid and not smart and following orders, but you were none of those things."

"I am sorry, Luke." The old master was quietly anguished.

"You knew who you left the galaxy with. And you just left! I've been trying to understand why. What did you expect to accomplish?"

"We did know," Ben's had dropped. "We did. You are right. But at the time- Yoda was unable to defeat the Emperor, and I... couldn't kill Anakin. I bested him, but I left it up to fate. We needed to run, to hide, for Palpatine had ordered the deaths of all the Jedi. So we ran, and we waited to see what would happen next. We waited to hear from other Jedi, because... it couldn't be true. We waited a day, a week, a year. And the hope never went away, and neither did the uncertainty of how this was going to end. When."

"I was right there," Luke said. "We were practically neighbors, all my life. And it wasn't until-" he broke off suddenly. "Did you know? When we viewed Leia's holomessage, did you know who she was?"

Ben nodded. "I knew she was the Princess of Alderaan. Senator Organa took her. We were present at your births. I knew she was your sister. I'm leaving nothing out, Luke."

"Now," Luke grumbled. "When it doesn't matter." But he was thinking Ben could name his mother, and a curiosity sparked.

"Luke? You out here?"

Luke turned his head and Ben's glow vanished, leaving Han's wrinkled white shirt to take a moment to come into focus in the new darkness.

"Yeah. Over here, Han."

"Oh." Han was squinting, his hair mussed and with a leaf sticking out of it. "Thought I heard you talking."

"I was. I was talking to Ben." Luke moved to take a seat on the planked bridge the ewoks had erected to travel between the trees. "He can't see you, Ben," he called loudly into the darkness. "You don't have to leave."

Han joined him. "The old man?" He was looking around, eyes wide with concern and skepticism.

Luke nodded. "Remember on Hoth when the wampa attacked me? And when you found me I was delirious and calling Ben's name?"

"Yeah, I remember. You scared the shit out of me."

Luke smiled a little.

"You delirious again?" Han asked.

"Maybe," Luke laughed. "How's Leia?"

Han rubbed the fabric of his pants. "Seems fine. Sleeping. Snoring a little, even. And she says I snore."

"She's upset."

"She's a lot of things," Han said. "Happy too. Medicated."

Luke smiled again. "Did she, um... say anything?"

"Yeah, quite a bit," Han allowed.

"And?" Luke said. "What do you think?"

"Seems like it don't have much to do with me," Han said. "Except I'm acquainted with you. So," Han clapped his thigh, changing the subject, "if you talk to the old man, you can talk to, you know, him?"

"Our father? Yeah, I guess so." Luke wasn't wondering why Han asked. He was thinking instead how Han came to accepting that such a thing was possible.

"Can he use the Force? You know, whisk a blaster out of my hand?"

"Hmm." Luke thought about it. "I don't think so."

"Does he have a body? 'Cause this is what I think," Han was suddenly full of talk, "I'll never invite him to my kid's life day party, but I sure as hell would like to break his nose. Just once. Then I'll be done."

Luke nodded, smiling. Just like with Ben earlier, there was a lot of information in a sentence. He breezed past Han's talk of revenge. "Kid's life day party, huh? You see yourself becoming a dad? Having a family?"

Han shrugged shyly. "If I can put up with Leia's snoring, figure I can put up with anything."

"Yeah, you're tough alright," Luke said. He was still smiling. "I was going back to medical for more of that salve. Maybe some pain reliever."

Han nodded. "Nights are hard," he sympathized. "I'll go along. Make sure you don't get lost coming back." He held up a playful finger. "No snoring, though."

"Can't make any promises." Luke got to his feet.


	9. Chapter 9

Work halted whenever anyone entered the command center. The screens still blipped radar or swept a sonar wave, but all eyes lifted for a brief moment to see who it was and what kind of news they had.

It was usually bad news. It might be the snow creatures were getting braver and spotted closer to base, sniffing out the human occupation of the planet Hoth. Or someone had gotten frostbite and needed medical. Or the current modification to the T-47s had failed and the speeders still weren't working.

Today it was Han, and he had some good news ( _no sign of life_ ) before delivering the bad ( _I'm quitting_ ). He hadn't said it in so many words, in fact he used a lot more, but that's what it amounted to, he was quitting.

General Rieekan had taken it well, and shaken Han's hand affably. Leia had mustered her dignity, and followed Han out, and proceeded to not take it well. Now she stood outside the command center, composing herself for all those prying eyes. _Death mark,_ she fumed at the smuggler, tugging downward on her white quilted vest. _Like we all don't have one here. General Rieekan should have said, "Big deal. Get in line."_

She smoothed her braids and wondered if Luke knew. Han probably told him while they were out on patrol together. She wondered when Han had made this decision. It didn't exactly come from out of the blue, but it felt like it had.

The thought of Luke calmed her a bit. He would say, "big deal" to Han's face. It wouldn't be enough to change Han's mind, and it didn't ease the hurt, but it did lift her spirits. She and Luke were going to have dinner together later. They could bash his character; maybe that would help let go her anger.

Though Luke was a lot more forgiving than he used to be. Three years ago, the first time Han was packing to go, it was Leia who soothed Luke. "He's got to follow his own path," she remembered herself saying. The truth was, back then she probably hadn't cared as much.

Luke wouldn't exactly throw those words in her face, but he would let Han go without a fight. "It's been three years," he would tell her. "I'd say we _are_ in his path."

She should have called out "big deal" when Han reported his news. Ah, but good comebacks often came too late, she sighed to the door as it slid open. She avoided General Rieekan's questioning glance and headed back to her station.

"Has Commander Skywalker reported on that meteorite?" she asked Lt. Farr.

"No, Your Highness. Not yet."

Leia nodded. She went over to another screen and looked at the sector mapping. Sector 7 was on the eastern ridge. A positioning tracker flashed steadily, moving in an uneven line towards the northern boundary of the sector. Luke on his way, Leia told herself. The terrain was rough, she knew, and tauntauns didn't move like speeders. She had a flash of concern, and hoped the meteorite wasn't too far north of the base. Really, meteorites were common all over the planet. Without properly functioning speeders, it was impossible to check on each one.

"Have you had your break yet, Lt. Farr?" Leia asked. Her own shift was up in two hours. Leia hadn't taken hers, but she wouldn't need one.

With some chagrin, Leia realized that, technically, she probably had gone on break. Personnel could spend the time how they wanted: stand by the heater, smoke a bacca stick at the hangar entrance, chase after an excuse-making smuggler...

"Not yet, Your Highness."

"Go ahead, then. I'll take over your station," Leia offered. She put her hand on Lt. Farr's shoulder, a request between coworkers. _Please don't tell everyone how I followed Captain Solo out of the command center._

"Thank you, Your Highness," and Lt. Farr got up and let Leia take her seat.

News of Han's announcement would spread rapidly through the base, faster than a meteorite landing. And how Leia had quietly left the command center, and then not as quietly snapped at him in the South Passage. Leia sighed, and resigned herself once again to being the topic of gossip.

 _Oh, kriff._ The staff moving through the South Passage... the man who walked _between_ her and Han. How could anyone call her Your Highness with a straight face when she behaved like that? Under the headset, Leia felt her face redden. It was undignified.

 _Good riddance,_ she decided. If words weren't enough to move Han, the next time she saw him she couldn't guarantee she wouldn't haul off and slug him, fatten that pretty lip of his-

She had not just thought pretty. Her brain had spelled it wrong. Petty. His mouth was petty.

Leia wiped the headset on her sleeve before putting the headset over her ears. It blocked out the outside noise satisfactorily, cutting out all external distractions. No wonder Leia hadn't gotten to know Lt. Farr well. She was focused on monitoring activity outside the planet's shield and couldn't hear any of the small talk.

If she called her Taryn, Leia reflected; if she had a real friend. But that wasn't fair, she chided herself. Leia was not lonely. She did have friends, Luke and Han, but perhaps it would have been healthier to have others in addition to the tolerant farm boy and the entertaining smuggler. It was hard, though, and Leia appreciated the difficulty others must face working alongside a Princess who was also acted as the General's right hand. It was hard to follow up "Your Highness" with "the gruel here makes me so bloated."

Luke had said that to her yesterday. And he hadn't used her title or even her name. Just said, "You?"

A soft smile crossed Leia's face. Friendly, open Luke. Leia had met him, and Han, at a time when her title wasn't going to help them get off the Death Star unless they put their heads together and worked as a team.

Down to Luke now. Leia closed her eyes over her resentment, and tried to look forward to dinner later. She glanced over her shoulder and attempted to glimpse the position tracking screen, but General Rieekan kept walking past it. Luke should report as soon as he came in, but knowing him, he would probably bring his findings- just a meteor, probably- when he came to meet her.

Luke's rank was commander, but he could be lax about protocol. And Han lacked it entirely-

New policy, Leia decided. Friends weren't paired for duty, especially two friends who couldn't be counted on to follow procedure-

And she found a new reason to be angry with Han, a good, true one; one the base would appreciate. Han should have ridden with Luke. The buddy system.

Some friend he was, Leia thought. A good friend would stick with his buddy. And never publicly taunt a friend for following them. A real friend wouldn't tease a goodbye kiss. They would just offer one. 

Wait.

Leia blinked at the screen. That had veered off the tirade.

_Afraid I was going to leave?_

She put the heel of her palm against the bridge of her nose. In truth she was afraid of the answer.

"Princess," General Rieekan snapped her away from her thoughts gently. He was trying to salvage her dignity. Now, there was a real friend. _You see, Captain-_ "Are you feeling alright?"

Leia shot him a grateful look, though her tight-lipped smile was upside down. "Just cold," she said. 

He agreed with a nod. "Cold isn't a good feeling," he said. "Hard to concentrate. Take a heater break."

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

Lt. Farr came to resume her post, and General Rieekan asked to consult with Leia about some new intel. More bad news: the Empire was conducting systematic sweeps of each system, launching probe droids for information on worlds with heightened weapons and shielding. She finished her shift with the added weight of their likely failure to protect the base, and walked to Luke's quarters. He was probably changing out of his snow gear.

"I haven't seen him, Your Highness," Wedge Antilles said. He and Wes Janson stood up in the ice corridor from where they were squatting, playing a dice game, to talk to her.

Leia frowned, both at their knowing smirks and the whereabouts of Luke. She left the two pilots to their game, figuring now she'd gotten Luke mixed up in the gossip. Then she comm'd Luke when she got to her own quarters. _Were we meeting in the mess? Sorry- be there in a few._

She changed into her dark tan snow vest, the one that signified off duty and walked the icy passages again. Through the hangar, and even over the clatter of tools and motors, the group of techs and the useless speeders, she heard Han's voice, stubborn and denying as usual. "But it should work," he was saying.

 _Then why didn't it,_ Leia answered him silently. The tragedy of the sentence stopped her in her tracks and she forgot what she had come for.

Han wasn't talking _to_ her. Or even about her. No, most definitely something was wrong with his ship. He'd flipped a switch and sparks flew-

 _Oh my goodness,_ Leia gasped.

And he had to flip the switch again, and turn it off, and try a new approach-

She might as well be describing her own relationship with him.

She felt sad all of a sudden, and she turned to look for him. She wouldn't say goodbye when he got his clearance to leave; he probably wouldn't either. The South Passage had been their farewells, then.

He'd grown cold evidently; he had the great coat back on and was moving about the topside of his ship. She bid his figure goodbye to herself, where no one could hear it and make it part of the gossip.

Over by the hangar door where a few were hunched up for the last bacca break before the doors closed for the night, Leia caught sight of the darkening sky and snow whirling in the wind. She spied a tauntaun and rider- someone finished with patrol- and followed it to the stalls.

Leia couldn't help it; she still wasn't used to the smell. She put a gloved hand up to her nose and nodded at the commander in charge, her eyes searching. Half a dozen animals, twice as many humans, and it was hard to distinguish who was who because of the identical protective head gear. But she determined it in a few minutes: none of the men was Luke.

It was getting annoying, how they kept missing each other. Leia decided to stop trying and just wait in the mess.

Luke wasn't there, either. She stared around, her stomach sinking. Was she uneasy, or just upset Han was leaving. _Fine, Luke,_ she thought. _Have it your way. I admit it: I don't want him to leave._

She should check with Han. He was the last to see Luke. Leia looked at her chrono. But that was a while ago, before patrol ended. He probably couldn't tell her anything. She really didn't want to talk to him, not after the way he treated her, but she gathered her resolve and opened her comm. She was all over the place when she thought of Han, but when it came to Luke she was plain worried.

Her comm buzzed back Han's contact as 'no response'. Figured. She tested Luke's number and got the same answer. Was it her unit?

Leia returned to the command center. "Can someone test my comm?" she asked. "I'm not able to reach anyone."

"Certainly, Your Highness," General Rieekan was affable again. He pulled his own comm out and in a moment Leia's was chiming in her hand, "CG, respond."

"Seems fine now," the general said. "Who did you want to reach?" he asked.

"I tried both Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo. He's in the hangar; I saw him, but my comm says no response."

"Hmm. When you see Skywalker, tell him we're still waiting on that meteorite report. As for Captain Solo, I suppose you could just walk up to him."

It was a sly dig. Even Rieekan was unable to resist. Leia would show everyone she was a princess and a leader. "C-3PO," she called her protocol droid over. "Please find Captain Solo in the hangar and remind him that comms are to remain on at all times. And ask him if he's seen Commander Skywalker."

Rieekan smiled at her and the droid shuffled off with an obidient, "Certainly, Princess Leia."

Rieekan strolled over to the position tracking screen. The screen showed its white background; no green blips moved about the landscape.

"Everyone appears to be in," he said. "Each patrol signs in and out at their assigned entrance," he told her. "It gets filed here." He gestured to a computer where Leia could access the patrol logs.

Patrols couldn't happen during the overnight hours. The temperatures fell drastically and it was too dangerous to make a visual inspection. Leia knew there were twelve sectors, and four patrols in each sector per shift.

The base generated a lot of forms, she thought as she read the first two. Were they all necessary? Should the Empire defeat them what kind of intel were they leaving behind? A form listed name of rider, name of mount, sector patrol, time in and time out, and had a field for notes. Leia started to scroll through rapidly to the afternoon hours. What hour would Luke's have been?

"What is taking 3PO so long?" she mused aloud. Then, "Sector 7 uses what entrance?" she posed to General Rieekan.

"I believe north," he replied. Her worry was making him concerned. "Is there a chance Skywalker went out of sector?"

Leia shrugged at him.

"I'll check with north entrance." He pulled up the visual intercom, and Leia left the reports and went to stand next to him. There was some activity. She could see C-3PO, stiff torso rotating upraised arms. What was he doing in there?

The North Entrance responded to the intercom call. "Come in, command center."

"We've got a possible man out," Rieekan said gruffly. 

"Yes, sir," the commander responded. "Captain Solo raised the alert. We're checking."

Rieekan nodded. "I know as soon as you do," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Leia was peering past the commander's face in the video feed. She figured Han's voice should drift out to her like it had in the hangar, but she didn't hear anything that sounded like him.

"Commander," she announced herself, "This is Princess Leia. Please put on the protocol droid." 

"Yes, Mistress Leia?" C-3PO's head loomed large in the video feed, blocking out the background.

"3PO, were you able to give Captain Solo my message?"

"Yes, Mistress, I successfully located him in the-"

"And?" Leia interrupted. The eyes of those in the command center on her, but she didn't care.

"He reported he had turned his comm off," the droid said. "It is my belief he was feeling a bit anti-social, although he expressed it differently. Perhaps it is due in some part to his recent decision to l-"

"Is he there? Put him on, please."

"No, Your Highness, he has departed."

"Did he go back to the _Falcon_? Follow him and tell him to comm. And if Commander Skywalker is there too, tell him I kick him off." Leia turned to General Rieekan. "General, new policy. Droids without built-in comms are to be issued one. We could be wasting valuable time."

The general nodded agreement. His eyes showed genuine concern.

"Commader Skywalker is definitely not on the _Falcon,_ " C-3PO reported. "I am sure Captain Solo would have indicated that, despite his general rudeness to me. I believe Captain Solo believes Master Luke to be outside."

"What?" Leia exclaimed and stood up. "What's happened. What did he say?"

"As is his nature, Captain Solo did not heed the caution of the commander, and mounted a tauntaun. He said, Your Highness,- and you may be certain this is an exact quote- 'I'll see you in hell.'"

_No._


	10. Chapter 10

Han Solo knew why he stuck around. No one else did. It was a game, a joy. He had no clue what was going on behind those big brown eyes, same as when she looked into his. But he knew her. And he knew why they fought. He was waiting on Leia the Flirt-

That was his favorite Leia. Yeah, he'd take that one any time.

Everyone got Princess Leia. Where was the fun in that? Han wanted more.

Now, Diplomat Leia- that one was kind of boring. His attention would stray. He'd start to wonder how anyone could sound unemotional and passionate at the same time.

He was scared of Warrior Leia. He let her win.

The best way to handle Sad Leia was with a fight. Better eyes flashing daggers than dripping tears.

He'd only seen Flirty Leia a few times. Once. But she was memorable, holy fuck. That was the Leia-

He sidled up to her. "Polished my boots for you, Your Worship."

Data board, intense concentration, issuing orders. This was Mission Leader Leia.

He knew this one was Mission Leader Leia, because he was going on a mission, and they told him she was leader. They hadn't left yet, but hopefully it would get more interesting when the shooting started.

He had broken her focus, and she shot him a quick glance that included a frown. Then her stare returned to linger.

"That's much better," she approved, and went back to the data board.

Han angled his face at her, considering. It could be considered flirting, yeah? Anyway it was a compliment. His eyes surveyed the hangar for confirmation. Did anyone hear that? But no one was around. No one he was willing to discuss the Princess with, anyway.

He was told to dress the part of salesbeing of educational materials. He and the Princess had fought about it, naturally. He wanted his weapons close, he wanted to be free to move, and- he didn't say this one out loud; that is, he hoped he hadn't- he hated when anyone told him what to do.

The Princess argued forcefully back. It was an educator conference; weapons were forbidden inside the convention center, and he would do as he was told. The clincher was, "or I'll find someone else."

Han wasn't going to miss a shot at Flirty Leia. He wanted to go. So he drank a bit, trying to dilute his mule-headedness, and finally got drunk enough he was willing to clean up a bit in case his favorite version of the Princess made an appearance.

Leia was muttering toward her data board. Maybe she was detailing his outfit for the debrief. "I'm sure you stuck a vibroblade in your boots. It was smart to remove the blood stripes, at least for the conference, but you really pulled off the look by buttoning your collar."

Han stuck a finger inside the shirt and tugged. "It's tight," he complained, fishing for some sympathy. Or flirting.

She was not really listening. "Tucked in all those chest hairs," she said in a sing song hush of a voice.

Kriffin' shit, these were thoughts. Han got excited. Real thoughts, inner ones. It was like witnessing a... a rainbow, or a whale breach. Something special.

"...just screaming to get out," she said.

Han looked around again, to be sure no one heard. This was Leia to Leia, not even to him, but since it was about him, he was going to stand there and wait until she finished.

"...sun starved plant. Can't have them wilt," she sang, and her head waggled a little, and her mouth was pursed, and oh, she might shoot him when she saw him there, but he couldn't resist.

"I'll let you undo the button," he said in his smoothest voice, but it may have snagged on his tonsils before it came out.

"What," she said impatiently, as if he just approached.

"You said all that out loud," he said.

It was the stupid grin on his face that told her he wasn't lying.

Those big brown eyes went from horror to dismay to denial and attack in a flash. "Of course I did no such thing," she snapped.

Han used her title appropriately. This was the... fourth time? She couldn't yell at him for it, because it was what he was supposed to do. "Whatever you say, Your Highness." He walked away. He had to. His eyes probably looked happy.

She followed him, snapping and picking on his appearance and threatening to kick him off the mission list, and it was a good show. It looked like she won; he was willing to take one for the team. The team of Flirty Leia and Han Solo.

Yeah, he was sticking around.


	11. Chapter 11

They had researched the basic things, of course. Air quality, gravity, and climate were always listed in a planet's characteristics for human tolerance. Han wanted to know about dangerous snakes in the region. Leia had not known he had a thing about snakes, but she liked to know things in general, and if he wanted to know something, then she would, too.

They sat side by side in front of the holoscreen, the whole planet spread before them in satellite images. Leia liked to study. She would point her finger. "There," she'd say, and instruct the screen to zoom in on the area.

"Seein' is believing," Han would answer. "Let's go ourselves."

They explored, traveled the regions. Han wanted a port city so his ship was nearby; she wanted land. She also wanted museums and art.

"Schools?" Han had asked, his face all funny like he couldn't believe he was asking.

Leia had shrugged. "Later."

It was a surprise, a pleasant one, to learn each other slowly, like they had all their lives. Leia needed to research, to land somewhere already knowing a great deal about it. It soothed her somehow, to be prepared. Han barely listened, but that was okay. He said he was holding auditions. "Which planet gets our vote?"

As it turned out, there were eleven species of snake, five varieties dangerous, each employing a venomous bite. That, somehow was tolerable to Han. "Not too many," he had said, "and no constrictor kinds; that's good." Leia wondered just where the hells he had lived that made knowledge of snake populations such a priority.

They bought a house, painted it white. "It's got to be white" Han said. She thought it might be because of her, what she was wearing when they met, what she mostly wore during their long acquaintance. In the living areas she chose earthy colors, accented with shades of red but the bedroom had blue.

It was the tree outside the window that sold it for her. Han hadn't cared as much about the where or what it- they- looked like. It overwhelmed him, she thought. Not her and him; he was fine about that. Eager, even and- he made it fun. But the how of it, what it should look like. He wanted her, he wanted quick access to his ship, and he didn't want snakes. That was all he articulated about settling down. She handled most everything: divided the labor, filled the rooms, stocked the pantry.

The tree had a graceful shape. The leaves were small needles, and they were soft. They were a green that contrasted well with the textured brown-gray of the bark, just so rich to the eye. They moved in winter, when the landscape was hard and brown and cold, but the tree held a promise she couldn't resist. She could see along the limbs outside their window; the smaller branches didn't grow so thick that they concealed the wood. It was elegant and decorous.

They slept well. The bed was large, and gave her another fact Leia hadn't known about Han: he slept on the diagonal. And under the pillows. She couldn't breathe like that. She thought she would suffocate.

He took up a lot of time and space at night, and sometimes she shoved his long legs that were too close to her with her feet. She had a thing about physical space. She knew it, and she knew it wasn't something she was going to get over easily, not without a few years of counseling or just admitting that her wartime capture had left a psychological scar.

One night it wasn't his heavy leg atop hers that woke her up, and she lay there a moment, and arranged the silky fabric of her nightgown which had bunched up around her thighs. His leg was next to her, as usual, but something was different.

There was sound. Birdsong. Leia kept her eyes closed and rolled on her back, and Han's leg moved into the warm space she had vacated. She listened to the strong voice of the bird, clear and melodic. How had she not heard it before?

Next to her, Han's elbow lifted, releasing his head trapped underneath the pillow. He looked at her, asking a sleepy question, and rolled over, taking his leg with him.

The bird was in the tree, outside their window. A nocturnal bird, Leia mused. It hadn't come up in their research of dangerous animals and snakes. She wondered what it type it was, and why of all nights it had started to sing.

Han's arm, nicely contoured with muscle and warmth, was moving, and his hand groped by his head. He was trying to free a pillow, and before Leia realized what was happening, he tossed it at the window.

Leia smiled. "It's a bird," she said in the hush of nighttime.

"Tell it to shut up," he grumbled.

She smiled again, and rolled on her side to take hold of that nice arm. They lay for a time, listening separately. It was a proud song, Leia thought. Han threw a second pillow.

Leia chuckled as it landed with a useless thump on the floor. The bird kept on singing. "Careful, you're running out of pillows," she said.

"Mmmph," he grunted.

"At least it's not a snake," she soothed. "It could be a snake."

He moved again, scooping her before him like a shield. "No."

The dark of the room took her smile again. She would be his shield, she thought. It seemed an easy enough job. "Go get the pillows," she said over her shoulder.

His speech was sleepy, mumbly. "Go get my blaster."

She laughed incredulously. "You'll shoot the bird into silence?"

"Fire a warning shot."

"Come on, get the pillows. I use that one."

"Sleepin'."

"Not very well," she countered. "You can't bury your head under your missing pillows, and they block out sound."

He kissed her head. "You'll snore for me. Go to sleep."

"I can't. There's a man in my bed throwing pillows."

He squeezed her, and she felt his laugh exhale into her hair. One hand roved over her body, settling on her throat. "The man'll stop," he promised seductively.

"Because there are no more pillows."

Han's head lifted, swiveled to take inventory. "Two left."

His hand was heavy. She placed her own over his, asked for its forgiveness, and lifted it a bit.

"I'll get them," she sighed. She returned his hand to his own body, and lifted the covers. When she got out of the bed, Han groaned in protest, and he took her pillow.

Leia paused at the window sill. She peered through the glass, hands on the silk covering her thighs, trying to find the source of the song, but it was too dark. She crawled back into bed with the pillows, dropping one on Han's arm that held hers clamped over his ear.

"It's spring," she said.

"Mm?"

"How long have we been here?"

His elbow made a shrug for her.

"It's spring," she said again, settling back down to face him. The cool air of the room felt nice and she left the covers off.

Han sighed.

"I wonder if he's nesting," she said.

His voice was muffled from under the pillow. "He?"

"He. Birds to me are he."

"Hm." Han's head emerged from the pillow and she saw the gleam of his eyes looking at her. "Don't you need a she?"

"Well, of course. But the males do the work."

"Ohhh," he said in an enlightened tone.

She rapped him on his bicep. "Not like that. I'm not assigning female power," she chided. "It's from observing. At home. The males made the nest as part of the courtship, and they are beautiful-"

"Hard work, bein' beautiful."

"There was one kind that sang through the night while she sat in the nest on their eggs, warning predators I guess, and protecting their territory."

Mentioning home was a rare thing for her, and Han marked the moment. He raised himself on his elbow, and propped his face on his palm, and the other was tracing the line of Leia's curve, from her breasts to her hips and back. He was encouraging her to say more, if she liked. Instead goosebumps rose and she pulled the blanket over her again.

"Mmm," she sighed, forgiving the action of pillow tossing. Sleep was demanding its time, and his hand on her hip was happiness. "I'm comfortable."

"I didn't do much gettin' you this house," he said quietly.

"I chose the beautiful mate to make it a home," she said affectionately. "And you painted it white. High up on a ladder in the cold."

He nodded. "Think I'll have to do it again. I didn't know this paint doesn't take well if it's too cold. Shoulda used spacecraft paint."

"Gray. No."

"I'll sing all night. How's that? 'La-la-laaaa. This is my Princess's nest, la la. Stay away if you know what's best, la la.'"

Leia burrowed an arm through Han's open elbow and pressed her face to his chest. His skin was warm and she moved so just a cheek rested near his heart, which thumped in her ear. "No birds, no snakes," she murmured.

"La, la, la," Han finished his song. He dropped his elbow and lay back down, tucking Leia's head on his arm.

"City boy?"

"Mmm, no," he murmured. "More like space lane boy."

"Space lane," Leia repeated thoughtfully. "There are no snakes in space."

He grunted. "I know a certain asteroid where a space slug lives."

"Oh, right," Leia smiled. She lifted her head to peer at him and barely discerned jaw and chin in the dark. She traced his jawline with a finger. "Space lane boy," she said again. "That's how you're so well-traveled."

"You knew that." He put a hand on her shoulder, bracing her so he could pull his arm out from under her head.

"Yes, but-" Leia paused. She was realizing there was a lifetime behind them, too. "Were you auditioning planets even then?"

A corner of his mouth lifted under her finger. "No. Ships. Me, maybe."

Leia pushed up so they were face to face. Somehow she knew what he was saying. "You were a stowaway."

His shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Easy to sneak on freighters. Loading crews don't pay much attention."

"You always wanted to fly."

"Fly away."

Leia blinked thoughtfully in the dark. Outside, the bird's voice was strong. "You sang for me," she told Han.

He laughed. "I guess I did. Must be nesting."

She smiled. "I like it here."

"Yup."

She rolled over, both to let her tuck her to him and to be his shield, and the bird still sang but they somehow managed to fall back asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

An uncharacteristic noise popped from her, halfway between a giggle and a belch, and Leia brought a hand up to her mouth to disguise it.

At a distance working at his own station, General Rieeken grinned at the noise she made. "I take it Captain Solo is checking in," he said.

Leia shot the general and his obvious amusement an annoyed glance.

"How did he do it this time?" Rieekan asked.

Leia declined to tell him and shook her head, determined not to give the smuggler any more attention than he deserved, which was less than what she gave him.

Check-in was supposed to not include details. No name, no location. Nothing. Certainly not a holovid of a Wookiee moving in pretend slow motion, knees bent and feet shuffling forward, arms pumping exaggeratedly and looking behind him in feigned terror.

That Chewie was even in on it-

"He's not enlisted because he's afraid of me," Leia asserted. "He knows I can't answer with desist because of the risk of trace. I would pull him and his dilapidated freighter back here so fast-"

Chewie looked so funny, she was thinking as she spoke. His fangs weren't even showing.

\- and hang him by his underwear, Leia finished to herself. If he wore any.

Rieekan had come over see, and when Leia turned to look at him was circling a finger inside his ear, trying not to chuckle.

"I've got to hand it to him," he said, "he keeps coming up with new ones. How did he head this one?"

"Captain Ohno," Leia said dryly.

The move to Hoth was going, for all its secrecy, smoothly. Luke's Rogue Squadron was at one end of the move and Gold Squadron the other; the fighter patrols reported that three of the four transports landed unchallenged and now it was up to the freighter _Millennium Falcon_ to finish moving machinery, furniture, droids, etc. Leia, General Rieekan, and a team of communications experts- jammers and splicers- were monitoring from the old location and would board the last transport for the ice planet soon.

Each time Han landed he reported back, and had displayed a creative streak no one knew he possessed. So far check-ins from Captain Crossbow, Captain Iknow and Captain Yourbeau had been received.

They were aimed at her, Leia knew. Probably everyone thought so. Han wanted something from her, but she hadn't figured out what that was yet. His pseudonyms both annoyed and amused her and she found she looked forward to check-in time. She hadn't reacted yet, though. She was debating how, and if she should.

Chewie carried a crossbow, Leia mused. Captain Crossbow. Maybe this was his idea.

"Why can't he observe simple instructions?" Leia complained. This was mainly for appearance's sake. "The moment Luke replaces Skywalker and chimes in with Wry Talker, or... or Sith Balker-"

"You're pretty good at this, Princess," Rieekan admired.

"- or Princess Gawker." Leia was fairly proud of that one. "We'll need to nip it in the bud. We can't have all of Rogue Squadron rhyming their names."

"No harm in rhyming," Rieekan allowed. "It's actually another layer of noninformation."

"He included a holovid this time," Leia said.

Rieekan nodded. "I saw it." He smiled, but added, "As entertaining as it is, we can't allow any clues for the Empire to pick up."

Leia puffed with self-righteous affirmation. "There's a war going on," she said. "At what point will he take it seriously?"

"He takes something seriously, Your Highness."

Leia snorted.

"The holovid," Rieekan pointed out. "All the funny code names? I'd say he's working fairly hard at it."

"Fairly hard at what? Showing a sense of humor?" Leia doubted. "I'm too busy to make time for nonsense."

"I think that's what he's taking seriously."

"What do you mean?"

"How hard you work. If you live through this, Your Highness, and I hope to the twelve goddesses we all do, you won't remember the war as all terror and battles.

"You'll remember odd things," Rieekan nodded to himself, and Leia thought he must be thinking of the Clone Wars. "You'll remember night. The sound of cards shuffling, how good it feels to sneak some sleep. The people you met. Stories they told you. War gives simple things a different meaning."

Leia hated it when she trembled even though she told herself not to. "I think I'll roll my eyes at that rhyming smuggler same as I do now."

Rieekan grinned knowingly. "There's no danger in laughter. It's a reason we're fighting, isn't it."

Leia thought about it a moment. "I suppose so."

Han wanted something from her. Only a smile? Did he really perceive her as that hard? And was he that immature he just wanted some attention?

Han knew there was one thing Leia Organa was good at, and that was giving as good as she got, and he wanted to see what that was. It kept her on top of her game. It made her a good fighter. It was a challenge, and yes, it was fun.

She realized she wanted to rise to the challenge. It was time to react. If anything, she would give Rieekan and the comm experts the wartime memory of the smuggler and the Princess and their silly name game. "Shall we design a communique to Captain Solo?" she suggested. "What shall we replace Leia Organa with?"

Rieekan glanced at the other communication experts, who were listening. "How about the next inventory list? 'To Captain Lowblow and Chewy Cookie.'"

Leia smiled. "Yes, after that holovid," she glanced at it, "we definitely need to include Chewie. How about Lady's Pajama?" she posed.

Rieekan laughed. "Oh goodness," he said. "I came up with Peas and Banana."

At that, they had a little fun. Han might even smile when he received his updated list. A smile was a simple thing, Leia reflected. Maybe, just maybe, he'd needed one too.


	13. Chapter 13

They were having a finger fight.

Seated in chairs back to back, ropes around their ankles and waists and hands tied behind their backs, Leia and Han were competing for who could achieve the rescue first.

Leia's fingers were brushing Han's palm, tickling him. She had the same idea evidently, and it got him to cast about to see if there was some other way they could get out of this jam other than loosening the ropes.

Their situation wasn't _too_ bad, Han reflected. It could be worse.

Sure, tied up and captured. Han wasn't sure he was ever going to mention to Leia that it wasn't the first time. Chewie might, once they were out, but she didn't understand his language.

He didn't know the bounty hunter. Not even what kind of 'oid he was. Yellow, smooth skin, eyes huge and all black. Long fingers capable of holding a regulation blaster with delicate, bony knuckles. Lots of them. Probably they broke easily. Tiny pin holes for ears and nostrils. Could he detect how nice Leia's hair smelled?

They had been disarmed, of course. At least they weren't gagged or blindfolded. Conscious, too! He couldn't have asked for a slacker capture. Usually, it was Chewie at his side. He wondered how the 'oid would have handled a Wookiee. Not with ropes, that was for sure.

Han was using his eyes; he liked to know what was around, inventory what resources were available to him when he did make a break for it.

While they worked the ropes, Leia kept her mouth busy, uttering conflicting attitudes to make the bounty hunter's head spin.

"Thank the Maker you got him," she'd cried, her first attempt at escape, running to hide behind the bounty hunter, eyes all misty and her voice- Han hadn't liked the sound of it at all- breathy and high. Girly.

"He's been holding me! I couldn't get away. My father will reward you, I know he will."

Han couldn't help flashing her a look of surprised admiration. What an act. Selling him off with a snap of her fingers, bringing up her father, the reward- damn, she was complex. Hells, he'd like to see her take on the Hutt. Give her a chance, turn that Princess into a crime boss, and Jabba the Hutt would be licking her boots.

Han lunged at her to lend her outburst some authenticity, but the bounty hunter saw the look on his face and and one or two of the knuckles split his lip. When Han got back on his feet Leia was looking at him resentfully and he couldn't help grinning at her. That was why they got tied up.

The room they were in had one door and one feeble ceiling lamp, but he could see the blasters the bounty hunter had taken off him and Leia on the small table pushed against a wall. That was encouraging. He'd get them back when they escaped. The chairs used to tie them up had probably been dragged from around the table. They were wooden, which Han tallied as a plus in his corner. Wood could be good for something. Maybe.

And they were on a backwater planet. Nothing happened on places like this. Well, Han had gotten captured, that was embarrassing, but the Imperial presence here was weak. Poorly trained and lazy. It was the night shift, too; they'd be sleeping on the job. When the 'oid ran Leia's ID through it would be slow to get results. A few days. By then she and Han would be long gone.

Han batted her fingers away. His were longer, and he could actually reach some rope to work the knot rather than just- what was she doing, anyway?

The rope was tight against his wrist, chafing it. Her efforts were making it worse. He managed to grab two of her fingers between his and gave them a bit of an emphatic shake.

Let me, he was trying to indicate. And damn if she didn't sort of slap the side of his palm with two fingertips!

He was pretty sure they'd get out. For one, Chewie not here meant he was somewhere, and when Han didn't turn up he'd go looking. And for another, when Leia didn't turn up, Luke was sure to go looking faster than Chewie.

Chewie, Han thought, was polite about heroics. He credited whomever needed rescuing that there was something they could do themselves to help their own situation, and he was only jumping in because the life debt required it. But Luke just dashed off the instant he heard there was trouble. Skywalker, my ass, Han thought. More like Lifesaver. Trouble was, kid was still pretty new at it, and just added one more life to be saved, his own.

It gave Han a little satisfaction, to know Luke would also get an earful. Han for being stupid enough to get captured, Luke for being stupid to come to the rescue. If there was one thing about the Princess, she was egalitarian with her anger.

But it wasn't bad, being tied up with the Princess. Her hair smelled nice. An upset Wookiee's fur had a different odor to it.

All those knuckles helped the 'oid tie a good knot. The ropes were thick and Han was pretty sure Leia was undoing any progress he made by insisting on doing it herself.

Knots came undone, though. Eventually. And Leia was keeping the 'oid listening, so Han kept working.

"I want my cut," she said at one point, shifting gears from damsel in distress to mastermind. "I brought him here. His capture is my doing."

Ah, that was the voice, Han thought. Crisp and regal. She pinched one of his fingertips hard and he winced.

"She's a traitorous bitch," Han growled to the 'oid on cue. "The last thing you'll know is how she double crossed you."

Maybe he was piling it on a bit thick. But it was the truth. She couldn't argue it. She'd been a secret member of the Rebel Alliance longer than she served in the Imperial Senate. She topped the Imperial Most Wanted for high treason. Han's name was lower down. But he had another bounty, and it was that money owed to the Hutt that got more attention.

The bounty hunter came to stand in front of him. What was he going to do with all those knuckles, Han wondered. And just what did he intend with Han and Leia, keeping them tied up and standing guard? Obviously he had help coming. What if the help was a smarter bounty hunter? Or worse, the Empire?

He wasn't surprised at all by what Leia said next. "Go ahead and check," she told the 'oid. "He is well connected. The Princess of Alderaan, the Rebel Alliance. Some amount of credits owed to a Hutt is just a drop in the bucket," she said, her voice all scornful and haughty. "What's he worth to you?"

Han's head half-turned. "I worked hard for that debt, I'll have you know," he told her.

If he wanted to nab credit for the rescue then he better keep working. He didn't want help, but he needed her help if they were going to make it out, or she needed his help same as she didn't want help. Shit, Han thought, never having really noticed before. How perfect were they together? It was a beautiful thing.

Han wished he could scratch his cheek, so he contented himself with wiggling Leia's fingers. He made a note to remind the Princess it was much better to be caught by a low-life bounty hunter than a high-ranking Imp like Darth Vader. That would make her face go pale but at least they'd be free, not executed.

The 'oid spoke. "Do you supplicate yourself, female?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Leia retorted.

"Don't talk to her about supplicate," Han growled. He didn't know what it meant, probably some 'oid culture thing, but he could guess that it wasn't good, especially if Leia was against it. She rubbed his finger, in a soothing there, there gesture.

Han's brain was telling him things- the soft flutter of her fingers on his hand and the smell of her hair. And her voice, that was so sure and strong-

The 'oid started to move around Han. There was no way Han was going to let him leave his line of sight. Chewie or no Chewie, it was time to act. He had to get a signal to Leia somehow.

"Seems this is the way, huh, partner," he said, giving her fingers a telling squeeze. "We always take two steps back." He hoped she heard the wink in his voice.

"Which is it," the bounty hunter scorned. "You are partners now? I knew I couldn't trust either of you."

"But a big step forward, flyboy," Leia answered Han gamely.

"Now!" Han ordered and he used all the leg muscles he had, launching himself forward while at the same time Leia had done her best to push herself backward, giving Han momentum. He took her with him, ropes and chair and all, and after he collided with the bounty hunter and they were all knocked to the floor, Han breathed heavily and smelled the scent of her hair.

Leia was kicking furiously, preventing the bounty hunter from getting up.

"Use the chair," Han called out. "Break his knuckles."

He heard her grunting with exertion and felt like smiling.

"Jerk up, Han," Leia instructed. "Just a little."

He did as he was asked, Leia steering, and a chair arm landed on the goon's hand. He screamed in pain.

"That's good," she said calmly.

She sounded fine. Han had pulled a groin muscle, he was sure of it. It burned. So did his thigh. His shoulder throbbed. "Yeah, good," he agreed.

The 'oid was panting and grunting in thorough agony, pinned below the heavy weight of Leia and Han still in the chairs.

"Will you get the ropes?" Leia asked.

"If you stay off 'em," he replied, already working at them. The trip through the air to on their sides had shifted the ropes and it was much easier now. He had them off almost as quick as it took him to hotwire something.

Han got to his feet, using the chair as leverage. He tossed the rope to Leia. "Tie him up," he directed Leia.

"You may supplicate yourself," Leia told the 'oid. She began to wrap the ropes around the 'oid's ankles.

Han limped to the table and collected their blasters. Then he waited patiently for Leia to finish, and stood on the 'oid's other many-knuckled hand.

"I am not female," the 'oid growled. His face was turning a deeper shade of yellow.

"Oh, then I beg your pardon," Leia said smartly. "Will that suffice?"

The 'oid was so furious he couldn't form words. It amused Han, and he looked at Leia, who seemed more pleased with herself than anything though he didn't know why.

"Let's get out of here," Leia said. She was rubbing her elbow.

"Got somethin' to take care of," Han said darkly.

Her eyes flicked to the 'oid, who shut off his screaming when he heard her ask uneasily, "What are you going to do?"

Han sucked in his cheek. Chewie wouldn't mind if he killed the 'oid. One less bounty hunter in the galaxy.

"He was doing his job," Leia said, as if she could read his mind. "Same as us."

"His job sucks," Han countered.

"And you did yours poorly," Leia's voice was even. "That's why Jabba's after you."

Han made a face at her. That was low. Not untrue, but still. "Not my fault I got boarded."

He picked up a chair with a groan and held it over his head. "Tell Jabba I let you live," he told the 'oid. And he smashed the chair into pieces over the 'oid on the floor.

Wood breaks, he told himself. He always made good use of resources. The bounty hunter lay still.

Han took Leia's wrist. "Come on," he said, and limped to the door.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Haven't flown a chair in a long time," he told her with a sly grin. "Out of shape."

She didn't look convinced and she didn't pull her wrist away. She used her other hand to open the door, and as they left their room of capture, Han risked edging his fingers down to cover her hand. She turned her hand over in his, and he caressed her palm. Her fingers squeezed in answer.

"Bounty hunters are a problem," she stated.

"Admit it, Your Worship. You had fun."

"They are an easier enemy than the Empire, I'll grant you that."

"I knew that's why you kept me around," he grinned at her. Despite his aching legs, his steps hadn't been this light in a long time.

Luke came hurtling around a corner, his blue lightsaber aglow, and Chewie was only a few steps behind. They looked so urgent and Han, happy to see them but happier to be on his own, laughed at them.

"I knew it," Luke declared.

"Relax, kid," Han said. "Her Highness tied some knots."

"And the Captain knocked over a chair," Leia added.

Luke extinguished his lightsaber. "Nothing for us to do?" he asked.

*Did the Princess save your life again?* Chewie rumbled in his growling language.

"Hey," Han protested, sliding his eyes at Luke and Leia to make sure both were ignorant of the Wookiee's question. "Other way around," he answered.

It had been evening when the bounty hunter got them; Han didn't remember exactly, but something like that. The night had still felt active, if that was a thing. Now there was a sleepiness about the air. They were with the bounty hunter too long.

They walked together, Luke asking questions and Leia relating the story. Han breathed the air, his eyes alert for more trouble.

Their fingers stayed entwined.


	14. Chapter 14

It was amazing how fast things happened. The second day and the place went from uninhabited micro islands to a somewhat-disguised military base.

How many days ago was it Luke was a farmer, and now he was- well, a number of things. Hero, but he didn't like that one. Pilot, finally. Descendant of the Jedi, too.

And he was building the theory that no matter how fast things happened, everything else after that was slow, lending the change a permanence you came to accept.

He was getting used to the water. It was something to coax out of the air on Tatooine where he was from, but here there was just so much of it, and it had a life of its own; currents and tides moving it in all directions. But after two days he was no longer nervous boarding a water speeder.

Island A was the command center; B supplies and requisitions; C the mess and so on. The islands were close- not to Luke's thinking, but it was all relative. Wedge had taken up someone's dare and he swam the distance between C and D. Luke and the new guy, Janson, followed in a speeder. "What if something eats him?" Janson had wondered. He was from Coruscant and apparently thought the ocean was carnivorous. They watched Antilles wade in, and he looked behind them and gave them a little wave before submerging himself. They couldn't see him at first. At all. Luke feared the water just folded over him, sealed him in, and wouldn't let him out. But he appeared after a moment, swimming a stroke and moving forward. He made it fine, only panting a little, and his face wore a glad, satisfied smile.

"Haven't done that in a while," he told Luke, water streaming down his face. "Felt good." And Luke saw some changes were gradual, like no longer being able to go for a swim, and a memory could take you by surprise.

The sky was blue and always windy, sending the branches of the trees whirling. If they were proper trees; that's what Wedge called them but Chewbacca shook his head in disappointment. They certainly didn't look like the pictures of trees in Luke's school primers. Those were limbed, leafed and branched, large and spreading. These were weird-looking. Straight trunks. Bark that shed. No branches to speak of; just large bunches of... fronds? that waved in the wind and inevitably got snapped off and then the tree looked like a giant dead stump. Until the next couple of days, where you could see new growth at the top.

There was a lot of other life, of course: birds, and large flowering shrubs. Lizards, even. It was really warm, and the water lapped with ripples or small waves, depending on the strength of the wind. There was sand, like from home, only not at all. This was beach sand, not desert sand. It was black and brittle. Luke could crumble it in his fist, and he found a change might be a lie, because there were only differences. Leia told him the sand was actually eroded rock from a volcanic explosion long ago. She said that was how all the islands had formed.

If there was change there had to be a catalyst, and that was Leia. She was a message, a Princess, an object, a concept. But she had become his friend, and so now was only Leia, and it was better this way.

They sat atop the hull of the Millennium Falcon waiting for the dusk's rainbow. They had spent the day helping to unload the freighter, and now bore the fatigue of a day well spent. It was something they both wanted to do. They needed the productivity, the activity. And they were acquainted with the Falcon when there was little else they knew.

They had wanted to use this vessel to evacuate. They wanted to leave the way they had come, with Han and Chewbacca, but the rebel Alliance had declined their petition. The Alliance didn't quite know what to do with the concept of the Princess or the hero with the lightsaber yet, but traveling with a free spacer was unbecoming, and so they were told to board a transport.

The Falcon would make several trips. Ironic that Han, the most- what was he, resistant? Luke wondered. Unwilling? anyway, not lazy- but he was the busiest. He was getting paid so he was satisfied, and Luke supposed the recent developments weren't really that much out of the ordinary for Han.

Luke felt oddly in limbo. He thought his change in circumstance was to become a Jedi and win the war, and that he was well on his way to both, but the evacuation to the new base made it plain that achieving those goals wasn't going to happen easily.

The breeze ruffled Luke's hair. It was a tricky time of day, when twilight made shadows and left you alone, and you thought of what had been. The sky turned a bit pink and the waving fronds were dark silhouettes up high. It was a nice view, sitting up high, where the little islands formed a broken chain and the sea seemed to go on forever. It usually rained overnight.

Luke was thinking of the Falcon. How the freighter was a constant through all this: fleeing his homeland, freeing Leia, ferrying them to the Alliance. The ship hadn't brought him to the micro islands, but she was here anyway, and it was kind of a nice feeling.

"Hey, Boss," Wedge's voice came from below.

"Wedge?" Luke called, scanning the ground. He found his flight partner near the ship's ramp, his pants rolled up and his feet bare.

"Wanna go fishing?"

"Fishing?" Luke asked like it was a foreign word, and next to him, Leia's face softened in a near-smile.

"Yeah. We're just wading out a bit, not far."

"Who is 'we'?" Luke asked.

"Your captain," Wedge grinned up at him.

"Han's going fishing?"

"He's Corellian, like me."

"Okay." The information meant nothing to Luke. He looked at Leia. She didn't look intrigued by the idea of a night time fishing expedition, or that she even wanted to move from her spot. "No, thanks. I'll stay up here and watch."

"Suit yourself," Wedge said, and in a moment the taller, leaner figure of Han Solo appeared, also bootless and with his pants rolled up over his knee. He held something tall and straight, like a pole, and offered one to Wedge.

He said something, and though his voice was deeper, the casualness of his speech was carried away by the wind. He didn't pay any attention to the two figures sitting atop his freighter.

Luke watched them walk toward the shore. The Wookiee Chewbacca, Han's partner, followed carrying a large cooler, and he threw a wave toward Luke and Leia.

"Our captain," Luke repeated thoughtfully. He turned to Leia, whose gaze was on the two men placing their feet gingerly on the brittle sand. "He is," he decided.

Leia nodded. "Certainly no one else's."

"Why's that, you think."

When Leia thought about something, she lifted her brows, which widened her eyes, and looked at nothing. "They don't trust him," she said. "Also, he has said he won't be theirs. It goes two ways."

Luke's eyes left her to watch the fishing party. Wedge was adjusting his roll of pants and Han was bent over, swirling his hand in the water.

"What's in the water?" Luke asked Leia.

"Fish," she said, not rudely. "I don't know what kind, but maybe we'll find out."

"Has he said he'll be ours?" Luke asked, though he agreed with Wedge; Luke had stuck a claim on Han. "Our captain?"

"He's trying to wriggle out," Leia said softly.

Luke smiled. "So we caught him, like a fish?"

Leia's lips curved up slightly; she barely smiled anymore. Not since the battle, when the victory took all her composure, and not since the awards ceremony, where she was gracious and beautiful. "What do you think, Luke?" she said.

Out in the water, Wedge was gesturing, sweeping his arm out. Probably telling Han of his swimming feat. The rain clouds were rolling in, dimensional against the flat pink-orange sky, almost black.

Luke answered, "I like him. We're not friends yet, but I think someday we will be. Good friends."

Leia looked at him. Just like you saw the sea before you saw the micro islands, it was the depth of her eyes that hit you first, large and brown. She noted his conviction but merely tucked his comment away.

"Do you?" Luke asked. "Like him?"

Her brows were up again, and Luke gave her time. Together they watched the threesome in the water. Wedge and Han held their poles; they just stood. Was fishing also waiting? Luke had no idea. His home was a desert planet. Chewbacca stalked in the water, the fur of his legs darkened by wet, and he held something in his hand under the water, moving it along.

"I think," Leia answered slowly, "I like this."

"Sitting up here," Luke nodded. "Having a place. Remember earlier, when Han was trying to throw water bottles up to us," he started to laugh at the memory, "and one bounced off and hit Chewbacca on the shoulder?"

"And he yowled and threw a rock at Han."

"Yeah," Luke finished the memory.

"They're rough, those two."

Luke felt a drop. The rains came like this, slow and hinting. Leia lifted a palm up to catch a drop, but it was too early. "Han says it spits before it rains," he told her.

"First comes the rainbow," Leia nodded.

Luke liked it when she agreed with Han. From a distance, two separate conversations, it was even better. "Anytime now," he said.

"On Tatooine," he related to Leia, "we didn't have clouds even. They are as wonderful to me as the rainbow. Kind of awe inspiring. The rainbow is- like magic; the colors and the arc. Unexpected. But the clouds," Luke marveled with a shake of his head. "The way they bloom, you know? And spread over the sky. They're beautiful."

Chewie had evidently caught something. He straightened from his crouch, and Luke saw as he waded back to Han that the Wookiee held a netted scoop. Something heavy sagged the mesh, and it was trying to flop. Wedge and Han turned to peer at it, their torsos twisting away from the poles.

"On Alderaan," Leia said the name of her destroyed homeworld carefully, "hundreds of years ago, maybe longer, before we understood the science of weather, the clouds were thought of as an army."

"Really?" Luke pretended to understand, but he didn't really. He thought he might have to be from Alderaan, or live hundreds of years ago to take in the superstition. "So, weather is-" he had to rephrase it, "- a storm is a battle?"

She nodded frankly. "Yes."

"That's- poetic," Luke decided.

Leia nodded again, wistfully this time.

"There it is," Luke pointed. "Over there, do you see it? Just the top of the arc right now."

"I see it," Leia said, her gaze fixed on it.

Maybe it was the lighting, looking up, but Leia's eyes shone.

"What was a rainbow on Alderaan?" Luke dared ask.

"It was a road," Leia said softly. "For the fallen in battle. It led to the- It was the way to the afterlife."

"Huh," Luke said. The rainbow here was a daily occurrence, and there was only rain. From what he had heard from the others, conditions for rainbows were not so common. "Did you see rainbows every time it stormed, then?"

"No."

Luke was silent. He wanted to ask about a fallen warrior when there was no rainbow, but didn't dare.

"It doesn't make sense, does it?" Leia's smile was barely there, sad. "I used to wonder about that."

Change had a purpose, Luke saw. If thunder was an army, then maybe change was... He was going to say it was an angel, but change was real. Did the people hundreds of years ago really think an army was marching somewhere in the sky they couldn't see?

A drop of rain found the tip of his ear. He thought of his home on Tatooine, how it used to look before Leia's holomessage, how it was easier to imagine an army of clouds than it was himself leaving his homeworld. It must be the same for Leia.

Suddenly it was raining, large drops coming down, bouncing on the hull, making a lovely hiss. From the water, Wedge exclaimed a curse. He was trying to draw the back of his shirt neck over his head. Luke smiled at Leia, and they stood, and rode the lift to the interior of the Falcon.

Han entered from up the ramp, his pants still rolled up, wet black sand clinging to his feet. He was in motion, walking and removing his wet shirt at the same time.

"Hey," he greeted them.

Neither Luke nor Leia had time to respond. He was using his shirt to dry his hair, and disappeared into his cabin before Luke had time to realize Han had more chest hair than Luke.

He returned in a moment, wearing a different shirt, white again and dry but with the same open neckline, and he had three glasses gathered by the fingers of his left hand and a bottle of something in his right. His pant legs were still rolled up.

"Where's Chewie?" Luke asked.

"Gettin' wet," Han answered. He pushed the bottle toward Luke, who understood he was to pour. Han set a foot on his other leg and started to brush sand away.

Luke set a glass before Leia but she made no move to take it. She was watching Han clean his foot. "Where's the fish?" she asked.

"Chewie let it go," Han said.

Luke looked at Leia. She sighed and took a drink.

"I've never been fishing," Luke said.

Han grunted. He took his glass and swallowed a healthy sip. "'Course you haven't," he said.

"Did you go a lot when you were younger?" Luke asked. "Wedge made it seem like a Corellian thing."

Han grunted again. "If you're a Corellian with a beach house, like Antilles."

"Oh," Luke said.

"Chewie taught me," Han added. He drained his glass.

Luke liked the answer. Somehow it fit with what he wanted to know about Han, or what he thought he wanted to know. Was there really such a thing as change, or was it just the process of living. Somewhere, probably in a far different spot, a fish was swimming, thinking about how it had been caught and gotten away.


	15. Chapter 15

Three months after Alderaan, after the Death Star, after Yavin, the Standard Year ended. Leia, Luke and Han bundled up with coats and blankets, and sat atop the hull of the _Millennium Falcon_ and watched the night turn to day. Luke thought it didn't really matter where they were; someday he'd look back and confirm to his past self it was a place on the way, a stop in between.

The dark sky was above them, twinkling with so many stars. Leia had two blankets: she sat atop one folded on the cold metal hull with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms encircling her legs, and the other blanket was wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. Luke and Han had dragged Alliance seats away from the scheduling office, brought them into the lift and out onto the hull, and Luke sat shapeless in his, tucked under a blanket, his feet planted on the floor. Han was spread out in his seat, leaning back comfortably while his long legs stretched before him, crossed at the ankles. He had a blanket over his lap.

They were drinking, because that's what one did for Year's End, though the Alliance wasn't observing the holiday as something to celebrate. That was fine with Luke. Han was telling them stories of other year ends, where he was and what he was doing, and Luke was starting to think that Han was a good storyteller, because there was no way in heck all of it could be true.

It had not been a good year; not for him or for Leia. He wasn't stupid enough to ask Leia how she celebrated, but the year before he and his pal Biggs spent the holiday in Mos Espa. Biggs was at the Naval Academy and thought he was a big shot. He took Luke to a cantina and bought him drinks. Luke knew not to get drunk; his uncle would expect the day's chores to be done, so he slowed the pace of the booze by burying his feet in the sand and then freeing them. It was one of those cheap, local places where the owner didn't build a floor. Sand didn't hold heat, so the logic was not to cover up the desert surface, and merely erect walls and a roof over it. Biggs disappeared with a girl for all of fifteen awkward minutes. While Luke waited, feeling snubbed and that life was passing him by, he poured the drinks on the sand floor and watched the liquid disappear. When he got back home, his aunt and uncle were in bed asleep, and Luke thought they had spent the time more productively than he.

Now Biggs was dead, his aunt and uncle-

The night sky was also beautiful on Tatooine. The Outer Rim couldn't be beat, Luke thought, for star gazing.

"The secret," Han was saying, "is to kind of tickle the bloom on the chin-"

"Flowers don't have chins," Leia interrupted.

Luke thought the exact same thing, but he knew what Han meant. Han was very inventive, he thought, coming up with these stories, each growing more ridiculous as the night progressed. He probably didn't want to be with Luke and Leia, who wore their sadness like a mantle, but he wasn't quite the cad he wanted them to think he was, so he poured them drinks and spun tales, and tried to pretend it was just another night.

But it was a beautiful night, cold and clear.

"You know what I mean," Han grumbled at Leia. "And they got a sensitive spot, right there-" he jutted a finger on the bottom of his chin, the part untouched by the scar, but Han hadn't told that story and Luke didn't think he would.

They were unlikely friends, Han and Leia. Luke had no idea if they would remain so, which kind of bothered him. He didn't appreciate that a calendar date was making him question everything. Or was it the drinking? Up here, on their palace to the stars... Leia was the Princess of course, quiet and disciplined, unless the drink helped to not think; Han the bard, or the court jester. And Luke himself was...

Hmm. Definitely the drink, Luke decided. Probably he should be the mystic? The alchemist. The wizard, if he wasn't such a farmer, or the court philosopher or scientist. And experiments and logic weren't fitting into his scheme so he was glum, out of his own body.

He removed a hand from under the blanket to rub his face. He really should stop drinking. There were always chores to be done, weren't there?

It didn't help, all the stories. Luke was just so damn homesick. The way the sky looked when the suns rose, the soft hissy crunch of sand under your feet. The cut of the canyons!- gods, he hadn't known to appreciate it when he saw them everyday, but what a geological treasure. And his aunt, who listened to him complain but never gave in, her face amused and knowing, an understanding squeeze from her hand on his shoulder.

"Someday," was all she'd say.

"Someday what?" Luke would ask. Oh, he knew. Someday he'd grow up, be satisfied with his life. That's what she thought. And he'd been determined to deny her. He would get out, leave, fly far away and have a different life, one she never dreamed of.

And here he was.

"Hey, I got a question for you," Luke suddenly blurted to Han and Leia. The alcohol had loosened his tongue enough that it spoke on its own, Luke's ears registering surprise at how he interrupted Han's story, cutting him off just when the flower-vine thing had immobilized him. "Why do you want something more when you don't have it," he said. He drew the blanket up to his throat, feeling a draft.

"I see the suspense is killing you," Han remarked dryly.

"What's wrong, Luke?" Leia asked, and Luke felt even stupider for the outburst as surely she must want more.

He shook his head glumly at her. Han abandoned his story of the scheming, murderous-yet-ticklish-flowering vine, and was regarding Luke with not the same look his aunt used to give him, but something close, lips pursed.

"I don't have money," he submitted for Luke, "and I'd say I want it pretty bad."

Luke snorted, and a second later Leia joined in with a reluctant laugh.

"He doesn't mean greed," Leia told Han. "Or how good it'll feel when you're able to repay that debt. He means nostalgia."

Luke lifted his chin. "I do?"

Leia nodded.

"Nostalgia," Han repeated. He made a skeptical face. "The good old days?"

"That's just it," Luke said. "I wouldn't even have called them really good at the time."

"I think that's how humans can be," Leia said thoughtfully. "We don't stay in the moment very well. You were always thinking ahead. Right? And now you're looking back."

"But why," Luke said. "It doesn't really make me happy."

"It doesn't?" Leia wondered. "What are you thinking of?"

"The sky. How it's like here, so many stars. And the way the air felt at suns up."

"That doesn't sound _un_ happy," Leia said.

Luke could have mentioned his aunt, but he didn't want to sound choked up in front of Leia or Han. "Makes me more sad," he confessed.

"Hell," Han said. "I'll take you along for a visit when I repay Jabba."

Leia shot Han a wry glance. "That should make him worried, not cheer him up."

"Why don't you, Leia?" Luke wanted to know how she could be so conversational, or composed. "Or do you? Feel it."

Leia lifted her shoulders and held them up a while before letting them drop heavily. "I can't, Luke. If I did-" She shifted the subject suddenly. "It's the holiday. The tradition is to review not just the year, but one's life. And, to... to hope, that all goes well in the future. No misfortune." Her voice cracked a bit. "But, in the uncertainty of that future, of not knowing what's going to happen, you think of all the others," her voice gained strength, "who thought the same thing, year after year since time began. And in that shared history-"

"Shared history," Luke said, thinking of his aunt, his wise aunt. "Yes."

"On Corellia, you sparkle, like stars," Han said. "Hells, no you don't. I'm drunk." He chuckled at himself. "You play with fire. Literally. You light up sparklers, small fireworks; no big deal. But it is playing with fire, because you don't know what the future will bring. You're supposed to feel how insignificant you are compared to the stars."

Luke raised his brows up. "Kriff, what a great, bullying tradition."

Han laughed. "You drink a lot, too, so you don't pay attention or learn anything."

"Did you guys sing the song?" Luke asked.

" _My Year Old Friend_?" Leia asked. "Yes."

"My year old friend," Luke warbled the tune. "We've cooome," he held the note.

Leia joined him. "To the ennnd," she sang.

Luke hadn't sounded good at all by himself, off-key and reedy, but with Leia's voice underneath him they were singers. He nodded encouragingly at her, pleased she would join him. "As night comes 'gain-"

Han added his baritone, "my dear old friend."

"What a trio," Luke crowed, but Han and Leia kept up the song and he had to find a place to reinsert himself.

_You're left behind, new friend I will find_

_As day darks, memory sparks_

_My dear old friend_

_'Tis not the end_

"That's all I got," Han stopped singing.

"I don't know much more either," Luke said.

"There are ninety-two verses," Leia informed them.

"You sang 'em all, didn't you," Han said.

Leia's smile was small, and her lips didn't part. Han could do that; _he_ was the mystic, Luke decided, and Luke obviously the jester. Han could say something and grant Leia a past without making her feel guilty.

"Someday," Luke blurted. "When you go back to pay Jabba, I'll go with you. You could probably use the help."

Han probably figured it was the liquor talking, and he waved Luke's offer away with his hand.

Luke sighed. "Someday. Alright, finish your story. So you're tied up by this vine, and its flower is what? A face, with teeth? and it's gonna bite you?"

"The petals were teeth. It was gonna eat me."

"You're making this up. I swear, you're so full of shit," Luke said.

Leia laughed. "And for as many stories as you've told, I figure you should be about sixty years old," she told Han.

"This Year's End isn't as memorable, I guess," Luke said. "Just sitting around, talking."

"Well," Han said. "Never sat around with a princess before."

"I can tie you up, if you like," Leia offered.

"Are you ticklish?" Han asked.

"Luke could be Father Time," Leia said.

"The life day guy?" Han asked.

"The one who dies an old man each year but is reborn as a baby," Leia said.

"Wrong holiday."

"Who's to say we got it right," Leia said wisely. "I think we are very preoccupied with time, all year long. We worry about it differently because we are from different places. Alderaani sing too many verses, Corellians burn themselves with sparklers. What did you do, Luke, on Tatooine?"

"Um," Luke thought back to the previous year. "Wait around."

"For what?" Han asked, but Leia said, "Oh, that's brilliant."

"And sleep," Luke added. "Always chores to be done. Speaking of that," he groaned to his feet, letting the blanket slip off his front and drop to the floor, "I gotta work in the morning. Happy Year's End you two; I'm going to bed."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made a little rating change! This chapter is rated M, and features a bit of hanky panky between Han and Leia. Set soon after ROTJ. Hopefully you'll enjoy. (I'm nervous). As always, thank you for reading!

The sitting room was quiet, studious. It smelled good; the aroma of dinner simmering on the cooker drifted in, and the wall that faced the window glowed a deep orange, reflecting the setting sun outside. It was a rare, free evening.

Han was cooking; Leia reading. Unwinding separately after a long day. They would connect later on. He knew it and she knew it; it was an unspoken compact.

Han appreciated nights like this. A lot. The demands of their professional lives were as familiar as an old pair of boots, but the discoveries of playing house together still amazed him.

Everyday when Leia came home she changed her clothes. Usually from smart, crisp outfits, feminine yet tough, to elegant, sophisticated, and alluring gowns since they had some function to attend. Tonight she had gone right to their bedroom and kicked off the sensible yet high-heeled shoes, unbuttoned the blouse, unzipped the skirt.

She would join Han at the kitchen table- maybe even the floor of the sitting room, at the low table- wearing polka dot slouch pants and a loose shirt. Barefoot, like him. What the holopress would give for that glimpse of Senator Organa Solo, he thought. It made Han's eyes gleam. Oh yes, he was still greedy. He liked Leia to himself.

Leia sat on the couch with her legs curled under her, a glass of red wine at her elbow on the end table. The sizzle from the kitchen and the spit of steam let her know when Han was stirring, which meant he would wander afterward into the sitting room with the wooden spoon still in his hand and take a sip from her wine glass.

He liked to cook and he knew she liked to read, and she appreciated that he didn't ask outright for her attention, but he was getting it anyway. He was entertaining himself. Dinner needed only his intermittent attention, and the shadow his figure cast on the wall when he stood in the way of the sun was life-sized. He challenged it to a duel each time he came in the room, spinning the wooden spoon between his fingers. The first time Leia laughed at him, and he blew on the spoon like it was a smoking muzzle; the second time he and his shadow gave her a deep bow; and the third he partnered with it to jiggle a silly dance, hips making wide circles. Then he returned to the kitchen to stir the vegetables once more as they sauteed in hot oil.

Leia liked the way his shadow still showed his saunter, the roll of his broad shoulders as he moved away; how distinctly it showed the cow's lick of stubborn hair on his head. It was silent, her secret Han; the one that lived here.

Until the meal was ready, Leia indulged in a guilty pleasure. She read a fashion 'zine, the kind with the holo ads and that popped out of the data board showing human women in circumstances so much better than her own if only she dressed like them. Leia liked to smirk at them.

This issue was marketed to human females, and it was the season for advertising long coats. There was a fashion spread of a woman walking a pet through a grassy park. She looked quiet and reflective. Another woman, hailing a speeder cab in the rain, who, judging by her face, was both frustrated and successful. Still another, walking arm in arm with a man. He was about to sip on a kaf cup, but Leia didn't know- was he going to swallow the wrong way because she was about to say something outrageous or was the kaf too hot?

There were articles, too; silly ones. Not just home decor tips, but how to impress a man when he is invited for dinner. How to balance one's love life with one's social life. How sexual prowess improves a relationship.

"Look at this," Leia called to Han as he emerged from the kitchen. She balanced the data board on her palm so Han could view the woman walking in the park. Her long coat was bright yellow, and she matched the late-season foliage of the trees in the park.

"Yeah." Han was not even pretending to be interested in women's fashion. Leia appreciated that quality about him. He took a temporary seat by her feet, the spoon in hand.

"The only reason she is calm is because her pet is so well behaved," Leia assessed.

Han leaned past her to take her wine glass. "She looks like a leaf."

Leia laughed to herself before showing him the next. "What about this one?"

Han gave the ad of the couple drinking kaf a longer look. "She picks his clothes out for him," he dismissed.

Leia also gave it a second glance. The woman's coat was a light gray nerf suede. The color, according to the fashion spread, was 'mist', and the coat cost five hundred seventy-five credits. Her man was wearing dark gray: hat, scarf, one glove on his hand and the other stuck out of his coat (short and black) pocket. His pants were black.

"It is very coordinated. In a real relationship, I think you'd be right," Leia said. "How about her?" she scrolled back to the woman hailing the speeder cab. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to create an impression. I'm curious what yours is."

"Her?" A look of almost-sympathy crossed his face. "I see her problem right off. She's not gettin' any."

"Not getting any what- sex?"

"That's what they're selling, isn't it?"

"Well," Leia considered. "Indirectly. Coats first. Sex follows, I suppose. I see her as successful, don't you?"

Han shrugged. "She's good at what she does, but no one else is," he interpreted the ad.

She tilted her head playfully at him. "Oh, that must be how I looked on Hoth."

He smiled broadly. "Everyday. You weren't getting any back then, either."

"You're not fooled into buying a coat, are you?"

"Not unless you want me to. Why are you reading that?"

"It's educational," Leia said smartly, and Han chuckled. "Seriously, you know who was the one to dictate whether or not the fashion staple was long coats on Alderaan?" Leia asked. "My mother, the queen. And later, me. Designers came to our palace and we got to choose. Then it became must-have. I never read the 'zines. Listen to this," Leia read aloud, "'sprinkle chopped rosalieben on your partner's dinner. The oil contained within the leaves acts as an aphrodisiac.'"

"Really," Han said. "Too bad I'm allergic. What else is in that rag?"

"Three minutes," Leia said.

"Three minutes?" Han repeated.

"Yes. According to this, that is start to finish for a man once he's reached arousal."

"After the rosalieben kicks in?"

Leia smiled. "I don't know about rosalieben. This is about the man once he's aroused. Not what gets him to that point."

"Ah," Han said.

"You already knew that."

"Sweetheart, I'm a man. I could have written the article."

"What I want to know," Leia said. "Is what are you doing all those nights it takes an hour?"

Han looked proud. "Digesting."

"I admit I'm curious."

Han eyed her suspiciously. "Are you," he said. "You know I've got the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy."

Leia arched an eyebrow. "If we're talking about that junk," she said coolly, "I'm not so sure you should brag. I suppose there's only one way to find out."

Han felt his heart begin to race, but he said with admirable control, "Not too much fun for you."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Leia disagreed. "Three minutes could be a good time. Handy, too."

"Oh yeah?"

"Remember the Industrial Period?"

Han didn't even blink. It didn't surprise him anymore, the connections she made or the things she knew. It was revelatory. He held up a finger. "Hold that thought," he ordered. "Gotta stir the veggies."

While he was gone, Leia thought about how long three minutes was. Surely not long. Would it be good? Three minutes was sex, pure and simple, she thought. It wasn't making love, which is what she considered she and Han enjoyed. They were a lucky couple.

Leia changed her mind. No, they weren't. They were a damn hard-working couple, busy and too often not together, and they took every moment they had to show each other how much they loved the other.

They would make love tonight. Of course they would. No meetings, speeches, fundraisers. Just Han and Leia, together at home, leisurely exploring one another.

Three minutes, though...

The thought- to tear at each other's clothes, to clutch, insist- was arousing.

"You were saying," he said as he came back on the couch. He sat low, a shoulder propping him up on the back cushion, his rear nearer the edge so his eyes were on level with Leia's.

"The Industrial Period. Large families crammed together in one or two rooms and they worked all hours," Leia reminded him.

Han took a guess. "Three minutes is all you needed to steal some privacy." He rolled his wrist. "In a back alley, the speeder, a closet..."

"Exactly. It's got all sorts of uses, doesn't it," Leia mused. She shifted on a hip to turn toward Han. "The busy parents. The sneaky teens. The raiding armies."

Han traced a polka dot on Leia's pants, thinking of all the stolen moments long ago, beings aching to touch each other and having to wait. His hand went to her hip and he leaned in. "The Senator in between meetings," he said, and placed soft nibbles on her neck.

"Good idea," Leia hummed. "Really good idea."

Han pressed his tongue on the soft spot between the tendons of her neck, and thought there was only one person in the galaxy who could make the Industrial Period, known for its poverty and pollution, sound alive- sexy even- and that was Leia. She showed how people had been the same as them, always were- maybe even in this room: the building was over a hundred years old- hands squeezing each other, eyes locking gazes, sending secret signals.

Three minutes. He always took his time with Leia. It was one gesture of how deeply he loved her he didn't mind showing. The heady rush of passion, the frantic coupling, seemed more selfish. But not if she felt the same...

Leia was leaning against a couch cushion. She reached up a hand and deliberately raked her fingers through Han's hair. "Is dinner done?"

"Supposed to sit five minutes."

"Ooh, five minutes."

Han leaned close to her ear again. "I can think of how to spend three of those."

"Me, too."

They looked at each other, eyes locked and lips parted. Leia's chest rose and fell.

"Three minutes, hell," she said roughly. "Give me thirty seconds."

"Thirty seconds goes into three minutes..." Han calculated.

Leia laughed in her throat. "Ten times. I don't know about that. Care to try?"

Han stood, and grabbed the data board from her hands and tossed it across the room. It skidded along the carpeting. "I'm ready," he declared.

Leia laughed, uncurling her legs, and pressed a hand to the front of his pants. Then she looked up into his face, a wondering expression on her own. "My," she marveled, "you nearly are." Her fingers worked at his belt and open air touched his skin, stimulating the hairs on his arm, the blood in his groin. "Set a timer," she purred.

He scooped her off her feet and brought her to the opposite wall. Fiery orange lit her hair. "Doesn't count until I'm inside you."

Leia thrilled at the low urgency in his voice. She finished working his pants, baring his ass and substantial erection, the virility of the scene before her making her want him right then and there. But she told herself to be patient, and slid down the wall until the pants were pulled down to his ankle. She spread her fingers around his thighs and kissed his cock, but he took a step closer, bending over her from the waist, hands at her lower back gently pushing her to the floor.

"Three minutes," he said, hot breath on her throat, groping her pants downward, "is a fuck."

Her own desire made her ready. She didn't want kissing, she didn't need stroking. She was wetter, she thought, than she'd ever been. "Then let's fuck."

Lust growled from Han's throat and Leia took hold of both ass cheeks, directing him over and into her. She gasped, the instance of his size and heat all encompassing, and she pulled her shirt up to free her breasts.

He moved in her; she felt it was the desperation of his thrust that lifted her hips; out and in and she threw her arms out, groaning an almost immediate climax.

"My goddess," she exclaimed, but he was still moving, back rounded, as deep into her as he could burrow, his tongue at her breast mimicking the movements that drove his cock in and out of her.

The paling glow of the sunset was behind Han's eyelids; everything was enhanced. He could smell dinner, feel Leia's pulse along the network of her body. She was hot, nubile, giving and taking. He felt- so serious, hungry, good.

It was getting better, and it had to stop. Leia slapped her palms down on the carpet, arched her back; her hips pinned him in place a moment and he opened his eyes. Her throat was exposed, creamy white and blue-veined, mouth open, eyes moving under closed lids.

Their bodies joined close, Han changed directions and moved side to side. Leia said, "Ah!" and he pushed hard, hard, hard and all of a sudden lost all sense of who he was, where; all he knew was to move forward; something was building, growing within him; he wanted it huge and more but it needed release or it might kill him.

Han shuddered, froze in place and stuttered a groan. Leia wrapped her legs around him. She pulled him to her, rocking her body up and down, nipples of her breasts scraping his chest, and as she rode another wave of pleasure her arms joined her legs around him and she trembled.

They were breathing hard.

"Fuck," Han said.

"Yes, indeed," Leia answered.

They panted some more, arranged themselves more comfortably around each other, and Han felt badly for the stolen fucks in alleys or closets that couldn't take time to cuddle.

"How'd we do?" Leia asked breathlessly.

Han laughed. He was too tired to lift his head so brought his wrist wearing the chrono up to his eyes. "Right on time."

"Good. Except," Leia said.

"Yeah?"

"I'm thinking of in between meetings. I need a little extra time to recover. I'll tell 3PO fifteen minutes in between."

"You serious?" Han rolled her on top of him and kissed her.

"My gods, yes. What a - I'm rubber. Everyone should have a fuck sometime during the workday."

Han clucked his approval. "Be a lot of peace, I think. Either that or falling asleep."

Leia lifted her face. "Tomorrow?"

"I'm already hard."

Leia wiggled her rear, and rubbed in the spent wetness of sex on him. "In your dreams."

Han groaned. "In my dreams, I'm hard. Think all I'm gonna have to do is look at you tomorrow, and it'll be over."

"That pretty much described me just now," Leia admitted.

They lay a few minutes more spread out on the floor, until their half-dressed state felt silly and Han's stomach growled. He swept hair back from her face with his palms. "We should eat dinner."

They pulled their clothing together. Hand in hand they went into the kitchen and got their dinner plates. Han observed his wife, her ruddy cheeks and mussed hair. Her shirt was rumpled and the neckline fell off a shoulder. She looked beautiful, his.

"I got an idea for a fashion spread," he said. "The just-fucked look."

Leia smiled. His forehead was red where it had rubbed on the carpet. His hair stood on end and his eyes were relaxed; in fact his whole body was loose, gorgeous.

"Fucked or not, I love you," she said.


	17. Chapter 17

No one really ever asked (Han did), but if they were to ("Why don't you let yourself live a little, Princess") first she would flinch because it violated her list. Do Not Remember headed it, and it was followed by No Self-Pity and Win the War. If they asked, ("Why not- it'll warm you up"), she would deliver an icy stare, for Do Not Reveal Emotion held a prominent position, but if someone persisted ("for kriff's sake- it's kaf!") she might try to explain that it was a form of solidarity with her people and planet.

("But- they're dead.")

If it was true the best way to get a pass on hell in the afterlife was to live one's life punishingly, then Leia figured she was scoring extra points on Hoth. Everyone suffered, but none so gamely as Princess Leia of Alderaan. She hadn't thought of Physical Discomfort for her list, but took to it with an almost savage enjoyment.

Her feet were so cold it felt like her legs ended at the top of her ankle. Her nose threatened to drop the same drip for eternity but never did. She ripped off hangnails that formed when the rough glove material scraped the dry skin of her hands, and her neck and shoulders ached from holding herself in a constant shiver.

Bathing, however, was permitted. One's bare skin had to be exposed to the cold, which, oh, made one's teeth grit. Sleep and the occasional tasteless meal (Ingest Without Enjoyment) were allowed, because depriving herself of these would only result in a faint, and Do Not Call Attention to Yourself was also important.

She allowed herself to like Luke. Everyone knew by now it was he who was inspired to rescue her from the Death Star, and she honored his own struggles.

Luxury, of course, was forbidden. Joy was out, as was fun. Her quarters were spartan. There were no personal effects: no holos, no trinkets. Only her uniform, and the bed and blanket provided by the Alliance. Han Solo had developed a brisk trade on Hoth, bringing back useful items in bulk in addition to his smuggling duties, and most had purchased a heater for their own quarters. General Rieekan's response, when Leia encouraged shutting Solo's storefront down (No Contraband) had been to purchase two.

She did give herself permission, however, to resent, and her special target went by the name of Han Solo. This was almost an indulgence, as he made it so easy. He provided so many opportunities it was almost as if he did it on purpose.

Sometimes it bordered on fun, so she had to be careful. Or he caused her to risk breaking the Arguments section of her own self-imposed rule of Do Not Lose (this included not only arguments, but battles and lives). She would forbid herself contact with him- difficult to do on the tiny, frozen base of Hoth- and think, and remember, and return to a diet of emotional deprivation.

She resented, most famously, that he had not properly joined the Rebellion. "You've known me how many years?" he'd ask when she brought it up.

Luke would provide the answer. Of course since it was the most historical of her resentment, the answer changed. "Going on a few months," he supplied helpfully earlier in their acquaintance. Later on, with brows raised, surprised at the answer, he exclaimed, "Two!", and most recently, resigned and tired of the argument, he would sigh heavily, "Three."

What Han Solo meant when he asked how long she knew knew him- and he would never say it, and she didn't know why, because she could resent that, too- "Three years sounds like I'm committed to something."

What else was there other than the Rebellion? She dared not let herself think of it.

It wasn't just his stubborn independence she resented. It was how well he seemed to do in the cold, that General Rieekan liked him; she resented, his ship, his good looks, his Life Debt because it meant he had once acted heroically but he wouldn't do it anymore.

Except, he did. Not just on the Death Star, but three years later, when she raised the alert too late and he went to find where Luke was.

It was her list, gods damn it. He needed to stay off it. Do Not Lose. Do Not Love.


	18. Chapter 18

Han Solo came back from a run to the hidden rebel base at Hoth with upgraded altitude controls for the malfuntioning T-47s, and forty boxes of nerf jerky.

He was on time - early, in fact- which General Rieekan appreciated. The faster they got those speeders working they safer they'd all be.

But Solo wasn't early to be helpful; he made opportunity so he could boast later. Rieekan tolerated it with good humor. It was a small price to pay. His freighter _was_ fast.

Solo liked to deliver his bragging rights to Princess Leia.

Watching the Princess, unable to tactfully escape as princesses did her audience with the smuggler, Rieekan wondered if the boasting wasn't a bonus Solo threw in as part of the deal. Something to cause that mask of royal precision to fall from her face. Solo wouldn't stop until he got something out of her: a bored roll of the eyes, a spark of wry irony or a barbed comment. Whether he did it for Echo Base- because life with a Princess hell bent on winning a war was fairly intense- for his own quirky benefit, or even for her, was open to discussion. And there was quite a bit of discussion.

In the debrief, Solo seemed a little put out the jerky had been discovered.

"You didn't think we'd notice forty cases of something we didn't order?" General Rieekan pressed.

"I'm a smuggler," Solo mumbled. "No, you shouldn't notice." He insisted the additional purchase was made on his own time and at his own expense, but he refused to say why.

The answer was given easily enough, however, when Solo's buddy Luke Skywalker, asked. Rieekan was glad he happened to be in ear shot.

"All this for the speeders?" Skywalker had asked, having come to inspect the shipment with Princess Leia. Responsibility for the speeders fell to the tech crew, but everyone was invested in their progress. Skywalker glanced in amazement at the load of cases gathered at the top of the ramp of the _Millennium Falcon_.

"It's jerky," Solo answered, ripping open a case and then tearing into a carton- by gods, Rieekan swore to himself, observing unseen, doing the math. A gross of cartons in each case, then five dozen in each carton... that was a lot of jerky.

"I love jerky," Luke said, obviously hinting.

"It's premium nerf," Solo said, throwing a meaningful glance at the Princess.

The three were good friends, Rieekan knew. Very good friends, with a lot of history between them in a short time. But they came in sets, Skywalker the common factor. It was the three, or Skywalker and Solo, or Skywalker and the Princess, but Solo and the Princess less often.

The comment told the Princess she should be impressed, and of course she wasn't. Solo had tossed a serving of jerky to Skywalker, who had already eagerly torn into it.

"We ate jerky all the time on Tatooine," Luke said, the tough and chewy dried meat affecting his pronunciation as he spoke.

"Woulda made a better business than moisture farming," Han said. "Those two suns'll dehy meat in a day."

"Maybe," Luke said affably. "Want a piece, Leia?"

"No, thank you," she said cooly, watching Solo drop a second pack back into the box with a scowl. "Where's it from?"

Rieekan could see she wanted some though, by the way her eyes darted from the case to Luke's hand. Nerf jerky was a delicacy on Alderaan. But her friends probably did not know that. They came into her life after the destruction of her homeworld, and she didn't talk about it much.

"Why so much, though?" Luke, still chewing, wondered.

Solo was reading a carton. "It says, 'Free range herds on beautiful Naboo'", he read off to the Princess, and she nodded. He turned to Skywalker. "I figured if we're going to be stuck on this ice ball Chewie could use the extra protein."

"Oh, that's nice of you," Luke said. He hadn't managed to swallow yet.

"The smell of all this jerky better not attract the snow creatures," Princess Leia warned, quickly talking over any consideration of Solo's niceness.

"That's a thought," Solo mused. He liked to pretend to agree with her, before turning her comment around. "Could use it as bait, set traps. Rid the base of dangerous wampa. Care to req a case, Your Leadership?"

"Why, when they'll come to the _Falcon_?"

Rieekan gave her a point. It was his own private game, to keep a tally of which of the two ended conversations he overheard with a zinger.

"Can I have a couple to share with the guys?" Luke asked.

Solo tossed him only a few packs; he was not materially generous, and Skywalker walked away happily, leaving a dynamic of Solo and the Princess. It should be fun, Rieekan thought regretfully, but he really needed to get the crew working on those speeders.

* * *

Evidently, though Skywalker also had few possessions, he liked to share. The Rogues got a taste of that premium nerf jerky, and the next morning, Han Solo emerged from the _Millennium Falcon_ to find half the squadron clamoring for jerky.

Han peeled off his snow gloves, a sign he was ready to do business. "How badly do you want it, boys?"

Rieekan was carefully navigating the passage which took him to the hangar when he saw them. The constant traffic of warm bodies along the snow-covered tunnels inside the hollowed out ice mountain caused the snow to compact into bruising and slippery ice; he was going to have to do something about that. His goal before heading to the command center was to check on the progress, if any, the altimeter replacement made to the speeders.

He slowed, not for an icy patch this time, but to observe the line of men gathered in front of the _Falcon_. Antilles, Janson, Kleviann... these were Skywalker's buddies, Rogue Squadron.

Solo and Skywalker were facing the line, a kind of counter made from crates between them and the men. Solo's co-pilot, the Wookiee Chewbacca, was howling in protest.

"Don't you worry about it," Solo soothed impatiently. "I got it once, I can get it again if we run out, right? How many?" he said to Dak.

Dak held up a gloved hand. "Two," he said. And Skywalker dipped down and passed something- it was the jerky- across the crate.

"What's going on?" Rieekan sauntered over as casually as he could while simultaneously maintaining his balance.

"Attention!" Skywalker tried to bark. He was a good pilot and a proven hero, and he wasn't promoted to commander because of his ability to bark orders.

The men snapped guiltily into the pose before a superior.

"Sir, we're off duty," Skywalker attempted to explain.

"Nothing in the rules against us gathering," Janson muttered darkly. He was the prankster of the group, Rieekan knew. He had pegged Janson as a bit anti-establishment.

"No, nothing in the rules," Rieekan agreed mildly. "Just wondering if I was missing out on anything."

"Apparently, sir," Solo was the only one not standing at attention but nor was he required to, "I'm having a grand opening sale. Welcome to Echo Base Commissary. Nerf jerky. Two credits a pack."

"You're selling a gift you bought for your partner?" The Wookiee rumbled an appreciative noise, and gave Solo an I-told-you-so shove. Rieekan wondered if anyone had asked Chewbacca. "Would you mind if I had a sample, Chewbacca?"

The Wookiee bowed- he never saluted, but then neither he nor Solo were enlisted- and gave Rieekan six packs. He, evidently, was the sharing type.

"Six!" Solo objected.

Rieekan used a packet to point at the men. "At ease," he told them. "Thank you, Chewbacca. I'll enjoy these. Haven't had nerf jerky in a long time."

As he tread with care over to the speeders, he heard Janson mutter, "you didn't charge him," and Rieekan chuckled.

* * *

Rieekan was beginning to think Solo had missed his calling. He was a hard man to pin down. Good at what he did and proud of it, but you couldn't get him to apply himself.

There was no doubt he was innovative, and that flexible thinking really took off with the Commissary. Ever since his success with the jerky, Solo kept an eye out for items that were not only useful for the unique situation at Hoth, but also made life a little brighter. Perhaps if Solo hadn't made the disastrous detour as Imperial Navy pilot, he'd have found success at product placement for one of those huge retail outlets that peppered the galaxy.

Princess Leia and Chewbacca were the only ones who didn't participate in the commissary. Most of the products were geared for life in the cold, and maybe the fur-covered Wookiee didn't feel it like the humans did.

The Princess thought Rieekan should shut the commissary down. "He's taking advantage of the men," was one point she made. "They don't earn much as it is."

"True," Rieekan allowed. He was from Alderaan too and he often deferred to his Princess, but he got the sense her feelings on the matter were complicated. "But they can spend it how they want."

"Captain Solo is operating a for-profit business on a military base," she persisted.

"Your Highness, you know on settled worlds bases have places for their soldiers to unwind. We let them drink and play sabacc here. I would think that has more potential danger than purchasing jerky."

The Princess's voice was harsh and her lips were a thin line. "The purchases are out of contract and not endorsed by the Alliance."

Rieekan sighed and reminded himself he was the General of Echo Base. "If I may speak frankly, Your Highness, I think that is what bothers you the most, that Solo hasn't embraced the Alliance. I would tell you he has; the Battle of Yavin was two years ago and he's still here. All that's missing is the paperwork."

"He's hiding from his bounty is all he's doing. If he thinks operating a store is going to earn him enough to repay Jabba the Hutt-"

"I'm going to turn a blind eye," Rieekan told her frankly. It was an old discussion. "I don't see the harm. In fact, I think it will do some good. Did you have some jerky? I swear to you, Your Highness, it was like tasting happiness."

With every modification they attempted for the damned speeders, Solo came back with something. Blankets sold like hotcakes. The gloves were actually better than the ones the Alliance issued, and Rieekan sent him back out with an official purchase order for more. Regarding the hats, however, he had to draw a line. The colors were fun, but the long tails, fringe, and pompoms might get caught in equipment and were for off duty use only. They did make for a nice scene around the sabacc table.

The Princess remained stubborn. Skywalker bought her a blanket and some candy from the commissary, but Rieekan suspected the candy got fed to the tauntaun mounts housed in Husbandry, and he was certain the blanket was stowed folded and unused somewhere in her quarters.

It hadn't helped that Solo goaded her. "Put a hat on," he encouraged her. "No one looks at your hair."

Rieekan wanted to pull him aside and explain how that was the wrong thing to say.

"No, I'm not going to give her one," Solo argued when Skywalker suggested presenting the Princess with a bottle of sonic shampoo. "She can buy it like anyone else."

Skywalker wasn't stupid. "That's just it, Han. She doesn't want to be just anyone else."

Solo wasn't stupid either, but when it came to the Princess, he could be clueless. "Not my fault she was born a royal."

"No, that's not what I-"

"Forget it, kid. I'm a proprietor." He talked over Skywalker's scoffing cough. "The vibrosaws are on sale, by the way."

The saws were one of Solo's flops. No one saw the appeal of carving ice sculptures outside. Piece puzzles were another poor seller: even with the sleeker gloves the act of pinching and clasping was frustrating, and fingers exposed to the climate risked frostbite.

* * *

Rieekan was modestly proud of the community that was Echo Base, and he hoped it was his leadership that had contributed to it. His men and women were tough, adaptable. They were a tight unit, making the most of difficult conditions.

And conditions were deteriorating. Rieekan was catching hell from Alliance Command, stationed elsewhere- warmer, no doubt- about the speeders.

New steering vanes, power cells, maneuver controls- whole new control panels, for that matter- the time and cost the Alliance invested in those damn speeders! They might as well have scrapped the T-47s and provided Echo Base with something brand new.

And the wampa were becoming more worrisome. Rieekan suspected they had added humans to the list of things they would eat.

A graver worry was intel indicated the Empire was searching their quadrant of the galaxy for any Rebel presence. The alert status level was raised from two to four.

It was most likely temporary, Rieekan addressed the base, lying to stay upbeat, and leveled humorless eyes at Janson, who moved his hands across his body in the manner of a priest blessing the dead until Skywalker nudged him with his elbow.

Rieekan explained their new way of life. Pilots would maintain shift hours, except they would do ground patrols on tauntauns. They were not to leave the planet. Supply runs to and from Hoth were halted, which meant they were put on rations. It also meant the Commissary would have to shut down, but Rieekan did not say that out loud. A bounty was set on wampa, and efforts on modifications of the T-47s would double.

Life changed with the higher alert status. Echo Base burrowed even deeper underground. Fighter pilots were bored and restless. Chewbacca took to hunting wampa, venturing out into the snowy plains with his bowcaster. He dragged a few carcasses back and was getting paid regularly. Solo, grounded and bored, actually volunteered for sector patrols.

The _Milennium Falcon_ looked like a freighter again when the last of the vibrosaws finally sold and Solo put away the crates.

Rieekan drilled his crews and worked them hard. Battle was imminent, he knew it. He wondered what the Imperial snowtroopers would think of all the ice sculptures dotting the landscape when they came.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set two weeks after the Battle of Yavin

Luke had to be fresh in the morning. It was his first patrol as commander, but he couldn't sleep.

He tried, rolling into different positions every few minutes, keeping his eyes closed so as not to see the chrono, trying to keep his head empty, but even under his lids there was more than darkness.

Finally, he gave up. He got out of bed, and thought to go for a walk. He hadn't felt like putting his boots on, and the walk didn't help because he got more awake in the process. The ground had these little nettles he didn't see that got stuck in the bottom of his feet, and he had to stop to pull them out.

He decided the _Millennium Falcon_ was a good place to go when you couldn't sleep. It was the only thing really familiar to him anymore, which was strange or sad, but nice too. Nice to have something, at least. He thought it might help him get sleepy. That's what Luke hoped for, anyway.

Sure enough, her captain was up. Luke could see the red of the bloodstripe along dark pants when he looked underneath past the belly of the ship, and heard the sounds of a pneumatic tool. That was one of the things that made the freighter so familiar, he thought: the noise of repairs. The ship was in a constant state of flux. The _Falcon_ was a work in progress. Much like her captain.

He grinned to himself. Maybe that's what made him sleepy. Being with Han was exhausting.

Ah, but that was just a bad joke. See, he _was_ tired. That wasn't fair, and he felt badly for thinking it. Han was, well, something, but exhausting wasn't really the word.

So what was he? Leia might come up with frustrating, but again, Luke saw that was how Han made another feel; it was a reaction _to_ him.

Interesting. He thought he should know, though. He should be able to answer his own question. Only two weeks since Ben hired Han in the Tatooine cantina and this felt like a delicate time, a now or never. A transitionary period, where Luke moved away from the Death Star to this... settled life, so different than Tatooine but again so much the same. Wake up, work, go to bed.

Maybe that's what kept him awake. The Death Star and the quick moments before and after- they were so far from the routine. Even the jawa sale, which was routine; his uncle was looking forward to it-

Well, it had wound up far beyond what anyone expected.

He walked around over to where Han was. At least the docking areas were cleared of growth. The ground was hard under his bare feet, but smooth. It had been cleared for landings. Han's back was to him, and Luke wasn't sure what to call him. Was he still a smuggler, or could he say he was a friend?

Han's shirt- dingy white or cream; Luke had never been good at color names- was untucked and Han's feet were also bare. He wasn't wearing his vest or even the blaster, which was noteworthy. He looked similar to Luke, like a man got out of bed.

"Hey, Han, what're you doing?"

Han whirled, pointing the pneumatic drill at him like it was a blaster. "You scared me, kid." He didn't look startled, only irritated.

See, Luke thought. Work in progress. Han admitted to being startled. "Sorry."

Han turned back to his project. Luke noticed a few things on the ground- bolts and spacers, a roll of wire. Han had tucked snippers into his waistband and a small hydrospanner rested over an ear.

"You should be asleep," Han said rather gruffly, arms extended to reach a control panel.

"You're right," Luke said. "So should you."

Han grunted. "Finally enjoyin' a minute to myself."

"So you decided to take the ship apart in that minute? Don't you leave soon?"

Han frowned. "The Princess has been pestering me all day about the mission. And this needed doin'. Or no mission."

"Ah," Luke understood. He had noticed Leia spent most of the day around the _Falcon._ "I'm glad you don't use any of those made-up titles when you talk about her. Makes me think you like her."

"Still haven't decided," Han moved his head so Luke could see the quick waggle of his brows and Luke grinned. On the Death Star, when Han and Leia first met, there was hostility and respect between them, Luke often caught in the middle. It hadn't quite settled yet.

"I bet she was poring over all those details," Luke said. He wondered if Leia had always been so in need of control or if it was new, since the destruction of her homeworld.

"Yeah."

Luke sat down on the ground and began checking his feet for nettle splinters. "They cleared the land for metal ships but not for people to walk on," he bemoaned.

"Think the idea is to wear shoes," Han said.

Luke smiled. "That makes sense. And there I was, jealous of a ship. Can I come in for a drink?" he asked.

Han sighed. He'd gotten more than he bargained for when he took the job from the old man, Luke's- whatever he was. Han wasn't clear on it. Mentor was his best guess. But also Luke and Ben had been... neighbors, possibly.

The extra payment was a deserved bonus. He didn't particularly care about nor need the hero's medal. He hadn't decided yet on the Princess and the farm boy Jedi. They weren't part of the bargain but they sure acted like it.

"What do you think this is, a commissary?" Han grumbled, looking at the parts on the ground. Then he picked up a rag to wipe his hands. "It's my stores. How you gonna replace it?"

Luke made a pretense of patting a pocket. "I didn't bring my credits. I'm just out for a walk."

"Try sayin' please, that might work."

"Please. May I have a drink?"

"That's better. Nice to see you got taught some manners on Tatooine."

"Nice to know Corellians heard of manners." Luke followed Han all the way into the tiny galley of the _Falcon_ and made himself at home, opening the cooler to see what was in there.

"No booze," Han pulled a bottle of ale from Luke's hand and put it back in the cooler. He shut the door. "You need something like warm milk. I don't have any of that blue stuff you like. Or any color milk, for that matter. Want some tea?"

"Sure," Luke accepted. He watched Han scoop the small, dried leaves into a reusable filter.

Tea was Chewie's drink, Luke had learned, Han's copilot. There were four large bags, what Luke had been told were different flavors, crammed into a cabinet.

"On Tatooine, we drink booze," Luke told Han. "Any time of day. It stores well. The bantha milk is available, but you use it the day you buy it. It doesn't keep. Spoils." He made a face. "Nothing worse than spoiled bantha milk."

Han, busy with the tea, was listening. Something was funny to him, for he sort of smiled.

"The planet's too hot," Luke went on explaining. Probably needlessly, since Han worked for Jabba the Hutt and probably spent a good deal of time on Tatooine. "Coolers can't maintain a temp beyond a certain point. Not cold enough for milk. And water was expensive, as you know."

Han nodded, waiting for the water boil. "You already lectured me about moisture farming." This was something he had picked up on long ago, how a planet shaped the style of life a human led. A human raised on Corellia was very different from one raised on Tatooine.

"Booze was stocked where I'm from," he offered, though he didn't know why. "You drank it when you were ready to relax."

"Oh, I drank it when I got up. Seriously, booze to us was like water to you right now."

Han found the image of a young sleepy-eyed Luke emerging from his bed, ready to do the farm chores, and downing an ale before breakfast highly amusing. "I was wonderin' how you hold your liquor so well. You about drank Antilles under the table the other night."

Luke felt himself beam at the observation. Stupid thing to be proud of, but there it was.

They moved into the lounge and had a seat at the dejarik table. "It don't give a good night's sleep, though, and that's what you need," Han told him.

Luke nodded into his tea. He wasn't going to argue. He had fallen asleep many times on a belly full of ale and didn't think it had affected him the least bit. But he loved tea.

The beverage was new to him. The little bits of dried flower and leaves, faintly aromatic, fascinated him. The way they colored the water: hues of brown and yellows, still transparent. The way the steam was hot and wet under his nose, and how the mug's warmth went into his hands, but not like on Tatooine, where he wouldn't be able to hold something the suns touched first.

"Does it work, the warm milk?" he asked Han. "Make you sleepy?"

Han made a disdainful shrug. "I don't know. Think I read it. I don't have trouble sleeping."

Luke played with his tea and wondered if Han was lying. Luke guessed his own thoughts were keeping him up too, but he dealt with them his own way and certainly didn't ask for help.

Han was older. Five, ten years; Luke couldn't tell. In some ways not by much but in others a lifetime. Maybe that's all Luke needed to get a good night's sleep. Some time. Distance, age, whatever.

"I was thinking of Tatooine, matter of fact," he said.

Han was noncommittal. "Hmm."

Luke kept the liquid in his mouth a while, tasting a bitterness that was his own. He swallowed finally. "How I left." He dared lift his eyes to Han's face and found it guarded by the mug but the hazel eyes were looking at him.

Han raised his brows a bit. "In a hurry," he understood.

"Yeah." Luke went back to the tea. That was true, and the part Han knew. Luke and Ben had arrived at the docking bay, unbeknownst to them followed by troopers. Before Han even got on board they opened fire.

Trigger happy. No questions. Nothing. Just open fire.

He hoped that's what happened to his aunt and uncle. Better than-

This was the kind of stuff that kept Luke awake. What he tried to get away from by sharing a cup of tea with Han, who was still just the smuggler captain when Luke first boarded the _Falcon._

Better than what Luke... found. His insides clenched. He hadn't been nauseous then but he was now. Getting shot was... quicker. It was better. Easier for Luke to think about. Not as sickening.

What if the troopers dropped Han, Luke wondered now. What would have happened.

Chewie- Luke didn't know this then, but he did now- Chewie, who was already on board, would have run out to... to be with Han. Luke didn't know how else to put it. For the troopers would have dropped Han fairly quickly. It wouldn't be a matter of saving his life. There were... he crinkled his brow. Six of them? Eight? Four? His memory gave him only the white armor and the beams of blaster bolts. So Chewie would suffer the same fate. Maybe Han would have nailed a trooper before they got him. Chewie would get a few, too. But troopers always had reinforcements, so the stream of bolts would never stop.

Sadly, Luke thought now, he wouldn't have helped, wouldn't have dashed out there, yelling to Ben, "We've got to do something!"

This bothered him, and one eyebrow lowered as a frown. Ben, cautious and alert, would not have helped either. He would have said, "We have to go. Now!" and Luke would obediently go to the cockpit and prove to Ben that he wasn't such a bad pilot. The _Falcon_ would lift off, rising above the dead figures of Han and Chewie, and Luke would be a little upset, but only in the way that a line of corpses was gathering behind him and how he was too scared to admit he was scared.

He would help now; he knew that. And in that moment Han most definitely was categorized as a friend. It felt good to know Luke would find more than ship when he came to the _Falcon._

"Think I shouldn't have?" Luke asked now.

"What? Hurried, or left," Han said.

"I don't know." Luke was glum. "Both, maybe."

"Well," Han threaded his fingers and cracked the knuckles of both hands. "Look at it this way. Where would you be if you hadn't?"

"Dead." Luke was pretty sure. But-

"There was another hurry," he told Han. Mumbled it, couldn't look at him. "I went home. Because of the droids."

"Thought they were with you."

"They were."

Han scratched his cheek. "I'm confused, kid."

Han hadn't heard much of the whole story. Neither Luke nor Leia really felt like talking about it. "Leia dispatched them, before she got captured."

"Right, I knew that. She put the stolen plans in R2 and sent them to you."

"No. Sent them in an escape pod. I really am a farmer. Or that's all I am. I wasn't with the rebellion. She was trying to reach Ben Kenobi." Luke drank tea and thought what a different direction things would have taken. "She was close."

"You're saying you being here is an accident?" Han almost choked on his tea.

Luke nodded. "Or destiny, only no one said anything to me about it until now. My uncle thought he was just buying some farm droids."

"Oh. Shit," Han said. Luke wanted to talk, but Han didn't need to hear the ending of the story. He'd seen it happen already too many times. No wonder the kid was conflicted. Leia, too. She was willing to maker her own sacrifices, playing secret agent Princess games, but she never wanted to sacrifice others. Not if it could be helped.

And Han realized for the first time how the Death Star truly _needed_ to be destroyed; how precarious the galaxy sat in her Emperor's hands. It was a powerful feeling, and it gave him the sudden impulse of tracking down the Princess and apologizing to her for being such an ass.

He'd always thought- it was a distant philosophy; he wasn't a thinker, not like Luke and the Princess. But life was- he winced to himself; he sure wasn't a thinker; it was a shabby way to put it, but- life was a gamble. A game. You won and you lost and if you didn't play nothing happened.

Han declined to be dealt a hand a long time ago.

Luke was still talking.

"And R2 kept beeping about Ben, so I-" Luke still found the story exhausting. And anyway this was the part where he'd been foolish, stupid, inept and it was hard to admit. He'd let the droid talk him into removing the restraining bolt and the the droid ran away. It was also the part that maybe had saved his life.

"I went to check," he continued. "Found Ben. And later he and I found- The Empire had attacked the sandcrawler. Killed all the jawa we bought the droids from. I realized the sale could be traced."

"Fuck."

Luke appreciated Han's grimness. "So I went home-"

Han put up a hand. "I got it. You don't have to say it."

Luke finished his story. "And then I hurried back to Ben."

"After you went home."

"Yeah." There were a whole bunch of details he could have filled in for Han but it made him sick to even think of them. Han didn't seem to need to know, though. There was enough unsaid to give him the picture.

Han got up and reached into a different cabinet than what the tea leaves were stored in. He brought out a brown glass bottle, and poured a couple of splashes into Luke's tea. It was a dark orange liquid.

"What's this?" Luke stuck his nose inside the mug.

"Corellians also drink to forget. It's cognac. Good stuff." He watched Luke sample the tea with the added cognac. "The glass is brown to protect it from light. One liquor you may not drink on a planet with two suns."

"No," Luke agreed after a swallow. The delicate balance of the tea was gone. It was overshadowed by biting, citric sweetness. He waited a moment for the huskiness in his throat to pass. "I guess you need a lot to forget," he smiled sadly. "It didn't work."

"It ain't magic, kid," Han snorted. "You become a drunk for that."

"I don't want to," Luke said.

"Smart. The Empire got there too?" Han went back to the story. "Your home?"

"Yeah. And I- I hurried back to Ben."

"Well," Han said again. He crooked one side of his mouth up and squinted an eye. Trying to find an excuse for Luke, which Luke appreciated. He waited. "Probably- there was still danger. For you. Right? That was the troopers in the docking bay. Trying to get to the droid."

"Yeah. I should't have hurried. I should have... not stayed, but. Man upped. Manned up."

"Finished," Han said.

"Right."

"There was another hurry you're forgetting," Han pointed out.

Luke lifted his chin. "There was?"

"Yeah. On the Death Star."

Luke had to think about it. He'd felt desperate almost the whole time on the Death Star, which was similar to panicked hurrying. "You mean Ben."

Han nodded.

"But," for some reason this hurry was a lot clearer to Luke, the reasons for it too. Leia had consoled him about that one. She said there wasn't anything he could have done. He didn't want to bring her this hurry. He didnt want to add another detail to the guilt she already felt. "We were on the _Death Star_ ," he emphasized, jabbing a finger tip on a chess square. "There were troopers all around! Darth Vader-"

Han took a swig from the bottle. "I don't think it was that different."

"Wasn't it, though?" Luke frowned. "I mean, my aunt and uncle-"

"You feel bad about the Death Star hurry? You think the old man Ben would resent you dashing off like you did?"

"No," Luke answered slowly. "I don't think so." Ben didn't; Luke knew that for a fact.

"Pretty sure your aunt and uncle would want to see you away, too."

"Well, yeah."

"So what are you keeping me up for?"

Luke gazed at Han. It still surprised him, how rough he could be. "You're saying I shouldn't feel terrible about it. But I do. Wasn't there something I could do?"

Han was shaking his head. "I don't know, kid."

"It makes me sick. It makes me not like the person I was."

"One way to fix that. Go back."

"Go back?" Luke repeated thoughtfully.

"Yeah. It was your home?" Han made a shrugging motion with his mouth. "It'll keep. It'll wait."

Luke drank tea. The idea was intriguing. Hopeful. He could return the man he was now. "It's going to have to. I won't get leave for something like that for a while."

"Tell yourself you'll do it, someday, and you won't feel as bad."

"I will do it," Luke promised. The promise was a bit like the cognac; it didn't completely dissolve the horror. He'd been weak, he thought. He was a different man now. There wouldn't be anymore hurries.

His aunt and uncle were probably relieved Luke wasn't at home when- when it happened. So there was that. And the idea of a funeral, even if it was a couple of years late, would settle a restless spirit. Including his own.

He still felt like shit, but it was better. He thought he might be able to sleep now. "What do you use the cognac for?"

"Huh?"

"When you drink it. What are you trying to forget?"

Han's eyes darkened. "I forget," he said stonily.

Luke grinned at him. "Leia should be here. Since we're talking about haunting memories."

"If there's one person should be asleep, it's her," Han stated.

"She's probably not."

"Nope. Probably going to come..." Han glanced at his chrono, "in an hour and bug me about something. After she thinks _I've_ had enough time to sleep."

Luke grinned. "Thanks for the tea," he told Han.

Han shrugged. "Sure."

"Can I borrow your boots? There's spiky thorn things in the grass. I'm sleepy and don't want to think about cleaning my feet."

"Borrow a bunk, huh?"

"Well, alright. Thanks. But I'll still have to deal with the spiky thorn things in the morning."

"See?" Han said, not pointing at anything but acting almost victorious. "That's exactly it."

"What's it?" Luke said.

"Dealing. Either you sit in the grass and you pull them out, or you do it in the morning. The point is, spiky things are always there."

"Yeah." Was Han giving him an analogy for life? "Unless you wear shoes."

"Well, sure," Han waved shoes away. "But that's boring."

"Not sure that's a downside," Luke considered. "More comfortable, though."

"True." Han looked down at his own bare feet and wiggled his toes. "Maybe I'll try it."

Luke grinned again and slid his cup over to Han for him to clean up. He saw Han look at it and thought twice. But then he stood, having decided to leave the cup with Han.

Yes, on Tatooine he was spoiled and let his aunt look after him. She wanted to, and even though she was dead he let her have this moment, because she had loved him and wanted him to live.

And too, he had a feeling Han wasn't in the practice of looking after someone. It was something he should get used to.


	20. Chapter 20

The hum of the lightsaber was droning, as Obi Wan had always known it. Enthralling. A finger played idly over his upper lip, and Luke hoped he was watching him, but he wasn't.

Luke should be watching what he was doing instead of sneaking little looks at Obi Wan, and the remote managed to score a few hits.

Two steps backward, Obi Wan reminded himself. He couldn't remember when he had struggled in the Force, but of course he had.

Luke called him Ben still. After seeing the beautiful woman in the holomessage greet him as General Kenobi, after hearing her say, "help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope," he still called him Ben.

How long since Obi Wan last heard a lightsaber? His own had been muted. It was an awakening. He met an old friend. Beautiful.

"How old are you, Luke?" he asked.

Luke straightened, and the remote zapped him on the bicep this time. "Ow," he winced. "Nineteen, sir," he answered.

Obi Wan nodded, and Luke rubbed his arm and Captain Solo laughed.

"You come and try," Luke dared him angrily. He was losing patience with himself, lashing out.

"Not with that stick," Solo declined, referring to Luke's lightsaber, still amused. But he had paused the remote from attacking while Luke spoke and waited for Obi Wan to give him a signal to resume the programming.

"I broke your concentration," Obi Wan said. "Forgive me."

"Why did you want to know?" Luke asked. He positioned himself in the fight stance again, and Obi Wan nodded at Solo.

Obi Wan had lost all track of time. "No special reason," he answered Luke.

"I'll be ready for another lesson soon," Luke promised. "Let me hit it five more times."

"When you feel you are ready," Obi Wan said graciously. Luke was still a boy, so young.

Nineteen years, he was thinking. That long.

"Where is the 'fresher?" he asked Captain Solo.

The young man told him. He wasn't nineteen. He was older. How much, Obi Wan couldn't discern, not even with the Force. Too obstinate and handsome for it to be any use. He talked so anyone would think him stupid, but his eyes were shrewd.

Obi Wan found the 'fresher and slid the door shut. He wanted to look in the reflector.

Nineteen years. If asked, Obi Wan would describe himself as a man who possessed a confidence that gave him years, much like the captain of this ship. The _Millennium Falcon_ , he recited to himself. He wanted to remember everything; he wanted it all clear.

His beard, his hair- ah, but the Force was full of love and irony, was it not. His point of vanity- was his youth indeed gone- thick and reddish auburn and clean and cared for-

Good gods, was that him?

Obi Wan stared at his own image and it returned his gaze, showing the surprise he felt. Life stared back, merely the passing of nineteen years. The confidence was bent, quieter. His hair was gray. Gray!

Well, at least he'd been able to tend to himself after nineteen years in the desert without a reflector. His beard was still full and trimmed, but it was also gray. As shocking to his senses as hearing the lightsaber again.

He turned to the side, stepped back and raised himself on tiptoe to see if the small reflector would show him the rest of his body. Perhaps there was a slight paunch; not bad for a life of general inactivity.

Obi Wan paused upon leaving the 'fresher. The freighter's copilot was rummaging in a locker. The Wookiee's fur was russet, legs like tree trunks, and even squatting on his haunches his eyes were almost the same level as Obi Wan's standing.

How did a Wookiee come to be a smuggler's copilot, he wondered. And he asked a question he hadn't in a long time, nineteen years: was the Force with him?

For the Wookiee was quick to snag him out of the possible pilots who might take on his charter to Alderaan. He had tapped Obi Wan on the shoulder and pointed out Captain Solo, using gestures more than words, but Obi Wan had understood him to say, _We probably will need a quick liftoff like you_ , and Obi Wan had answered _I need someone who can put his troubles behind mine._

_Oh, he will,_ the Wookiee's eyes had gleamed that someone actually conversed with him. _He doesn't like to think of his own. Don't tell him you have any, though._

Obi Wan had nodded and smiled an acknowledgement for the advice and an appreciation for the Wookiee's sense of humor and large affection.

Captain Solo might think Obi Wan hired his fast ship, but Obi Wan had hired the Wookiee.

*Where is that sensor manual board,* Chewbacca was grumbling at the contents of the locker.

"The R2 is an astromech," Obi Wan said. "If you can't locate the manual perhaps it can diagnose your sensor."

*How is it you come to understand my language?* the Wookiee straightened his enormous body. *Not many do.*

"Oh," Obi Wan smiled. "I was not always stranded in the desert. In my youth," and he passed his hand mournfully over his thinning gray hair, "I have seen much."

Too much. Done too little? Is that what happened?

"Your captain understands you well," Obi Wan pointed out.

Chewbacca nodded solemnly. *He has an ear for language.*

"Does he?" Obi Wan's brows rose and he was pleasantly surprised. "That is a wise talent."

The Wookiee actually winked. *I don't know about wise.*

Obi Wan smiled. "At least it helped him get a copilot."

*You are a Jedi,* the Wookiee growled at him, but not accusingly, like Obi Wan had heard in recent times. Almost protectively, like he shared the secret.

"I am," Obi Wan admitted to Chewbacca. "I did not mean to give myself away. I was perhaps too quick to use my weapon in the boy's defense in the cantina."

The Wookiee shrugged. *Your quick defense earned you the respect of the room; not your weapon.*

"Wouldn't that be nice," Obi Wan smiled.

*It is why I spoke for you. If the Captain's head is turned he might take your job. Other times, you have to hit him on the head.* White, sharp teeth suddenly flashed and the Wookie laughed at his own joke.

Obi Wan laughed lightly with him. "Let us hope it does not come to blows," he said.

*Oh, it won't,* Chewbacca chortled. *He saw you too.*

Back in the lounge, Captain Solo was still watching Luke duel with the target remote. Luke closed up his lightsaber when Obi Wan reappeared.

"Is there more?" he asked. "I mean, other ways to teach the Force besides the lightsaber?" He flushed. "I'm feeling a little bruised."

Obi Wan smiled at him. "Certainly there is more. To be a Jedi is to embrace a philosophy."

Captain Solo interrupted with one of his smug opinions. "I always thought of the Jedi as missionizing warrior monks."

Obi Wan ignored him. "Children identified with sensitivity to the Force are brought to the Jedi Temple at a very young age. They are taught much more than combat, for the Force is present in every aspect of their lives."

"See," the captain broke in again. "What I said."

Luke looked at him. He was without any kind of attitude or prejudice which the captain possessed. "Then," he said slowly. "Did... Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Your uncle was your guardian, Luke," Obi Wan said gently.

Again, Luke wrestled with the magnitude of the revelation Obi Wan had given him only hours earlier, coupled with the fresh and vicious loss of his aunt and uncle.

"Did he know?" Luke asked.

Obi Wan planned his response, and briefly closed his eyes. "Human nature knows only what it wants to know," he said.

The captain made a noise, like a snort.

"Also," Obi Wan added; it had been a mistake to mention Luke's father to the youth. He blamed it on the unexpected sight of the R2 unit and he got sentimental. But in the quiet of flight he had no more intention of speaking of the man and needed to derail Luke's thoughts. "It is a bad time for beings possessing your capability. The Emperor views those who can manipulate the Force as a threat."

Luke nodded, but Obi Wan saw he was even more overwhelmed. "Try this," he suggested. "Sit on the floor." Obi Wan's own body would protest such movement, but Luke did so readily and easily.

"Breathe," Obi Wan instructed. "Fill your chest with air slowly, and just as slowly release it. Close your eyes, and open your mind. Do not see me, or Captain Solo; do not look at anything. Do not let your mind tell you the interior of this freighter is shabby-"

"That's uncalled for," Captain Solo objected. His voice was dry, that shrewdness evident.

A corner of Obi Wan's mouth tugged slightly. He had been unable to resist making a poke at the captain. "- do not think of where you are headed, or where you have been." He gave that last a weighted pause, because he knew that was difficult. "Let no thoughts enter your mind."

Luke did as he was told. Obi Wan watched as the rise of his chest slowed and deepened. He was a young man now, Obi Wan thought. It didn't seem that long ago he had asked Owen and Beru Lars if they would take in their orphaned nephew. But proof was stronger than memory. Luke was nineteen.

It was a long time to be idle.

Then he realized he was thinking of himself.

Captain Solo jerked a thumb at Luke. "Should I get him a pillow?"

They both looked at Luke, whose face flickered at the sarcasm, but he kept his eyes closed and his breathing was even.

Satisfied, Obi Wan turned back to the captain. "No," he said for Luke's benefit.

"So what's going to happen when we get to Alderaan?" Captain Solo asked.

"I thought we agreed no questions," Obi Wan reminded the young man of the charter.

Solo grinned, but his eyes were hard. "Not after that departure," he pointed out.

True enough. It didn't matter now, anyway.

"I shall seek an audience with Viceroy Organa."

"Her father?" came from Luke on the floor. His eyes were still closed. Certainly his hearing was good.

"Who's her?" Solo asked.

"You're thinking about her," Obi Wan spoke to Luke.

Obi Wan was too, it couldn't be helped. Bail Organa's smile, they way he cradled his adopted daughter in the crook of his arm. Nineteen years ago.

"I am," the boy nodded eagerly, eyes still closed. "I swear, I emptied my mind, and she entered."

Obi Wan rubbed an eyebrow. "It can't be helped, I suppose."

"What do you think happened to her?" Luke had opened his eyes. Obi Wan sighed. This lesson was ended quickly. "Do you think she was captured?"

"Yes." Obi Wan sighed again. "It is most likely she was brought into Imperial custody."

"And what will- what do they do?" Luke looked concerned. "It's treason, right?"

"Viceroy," Captain Solo murmured thoughtfully. Apparently the captain's thoughts were veering down another path.

The Force was indeed with him, Obi Wan thought. The captain was an excellent distraction.

He nodded at him. "An office in support of the monarch."

"And she's part of the Rebellion?" Luke asked.

"Kriff," came from the captain.

The curse caused Obi Wan to smile. "It's well known her father is. They are a powerful family. I was unaware she had undertaken a role herself."

"Will she- is it summary execution?" Luke said.

"She is a person of political importance," Obi Wan said carefully. "That might mean something." Solo snorted again. "And her swift action of dispatching the droids doubtless bought her a few hours." He thought about the lovely woman in the white gown, and felt a little sick. "It will be a difficult few hours."

Obi Wan lapsed into thought. It was unexpected, that the one to bring him back into the Force was Bail Organa and not Master Yoda. Was he even still alive? Is that how so much time passed?

Bail had promised the baby would be loved, and it seemed she was. That was nice to know. It was comforting.

Obi Wan looked over at Luke, who was still sitting on the floor, eyes politely quiet on him. "I enjoyed living on Tatooine, Luke. I want you to know that."

Luke frowned. "It's a rather abrupt change of subject, but I'm glad. What does it have to do with her?"

Obi Wan smiled slightly. "That remains to be seen, my friend."

"What have you brought into my life, old man," Captain Solo wanted to know. "The Rebellion? You're tellin' me you're some sort of spy, just wanders into a cantina on some backwater planet to cut a guy's arm off?"

"Will you go back, Ben? To Tatooine?"

"No, Luke. I think I shall probably remain on Alderaan, under the protection of the Viceroy, and bring my spy game, as the noble tutelage of the Jedi has been so aptly called," Obi Wan shot a wry grin Captain Solo's way, who answered with a scowl. "You should remain there as well, Luke."

"And in the meantime I'll be shootin' Imps off my tail every port I approach," Captain Solo complained.

"In the meantime try and have a little sympathy for someone else," Luke said sternly. "Think about all the lives the Empire has disrupted. Think about her, about to be ex-"

"You're the one moonin' over her. And I still don't know who she is."

"'-ecuted. Think about me and Ben, about to-"

"I don't care about you. You're just a charter. I got me to worry about, alright kid? and let me tell you, that's enough to worry about."

Luke's power of argument was not highly developed yet, and he stopped trying to convince the captain of his point of view, and sulked. "Well, you should try and worry about someone else beside yourself for once."

Obi Wan frowned at the captain too. Was he wrong about the shrewdness in the eyes? Or was it hunger?

"The simplest of knots is often the hardest to undo," he said.

"Who said anything about knots?"

"The being who avoids entanglements is the first to wrap himself around it."

"That ain't true of smugglers, old man."

"Listen," Luke scrambled to his feet, "I'm tired of you already. Whether you like it or not, you're roped in. And try using our names for once. It's annoying."

Captain Solo leaned forward in his seat and spread his arms. "You didn't introduce yourselves," he retorted. Luke blinked in memory. "Yeah, think back," the captain sneered. "You better go back to your lessons. You got a lot to learn."

Comical almost, Obi Wan thought. The Force was certainly with him, to provide him a moment like this. It was a blaster and a lightsaber arguing about manners. But the captain had a point.

"We should get back to your training," Obi Wan conceded. "Circumstances have deemed it urgent. We are not even guaranteed a peaceful landing on Alderaan. I fear the Rebellion has tipped their hand and there's no telling how the Emperor will react."

"Him," Luke grumbled. "Han." He had learned the name in the cantina, and he would use it. "What a load, huh?"

Obi Wan smiled. "There are those who show their heart, and others who show their wisdom." He started the remote again.

Luke eyed it warily. "You mean you and me?"

"And those who hide both, to reveal them in a flash."

"I don't know about that," Luke said. His shoulders shifted whenever the remote moved; his break had done him well. "It'd be a pleasant surprise." All of a sudden, he slashed his lightsaber down at an angle, and met the remote's beam.

"Well done, Luke."


	21. Chapter 21

After the initial disbelief and terror- stormtroopers and asteroids, a seriously malfunctioned ship and a kiss- came a softening. Leia felt... not forgiving; Han operated true to form, just as she did.

And she wasn't resigned to this, living on a limping ship for- by his estimation- months. Her only regret was a loneliness, that she couldn't _tell_ someone, like Luke. Han was living it too, and Chewie, but she wanted someone else to know. _I'm fine. We made it past the Empire but you wouldn't believe what happened._

But there was a willingness she hadn't felt before. Like her resistance had dissolved.

_Look at me, Luke. Can you believe it? I almost don't myself._

It was the stars. The sight outside the cockpit window. Beautiful, dimensional points of light. How arrogant of planetary life, to develop the ability to join the stars, and speed past them. To not take part among them, to see the colors, the gases, the iron.

Even the asteroids, as they spiraled toward the ship- she was terrified of them, but they possessed no malice, no mind to destroy.

She prayed to all gods Luke was okay. That would be the only shadow, the not knowing. The ache for Hoth, whose battle scars she could see from the sky, for the losses she didn't know about.

On Alderaan, no matter the weather, she breakfasted on the terrace. There was a netting that wrapped around the terrace that provided the luxury of hearing the songs, seeing the colors, feeling the breeze or the cold, without the pesky bugs or rain.

The cockpit became her terrace.

It was a cramped space, a place to work, and someone was always in it. So she didn't have her own spot, and she knew not to spread out. When Chewie was on duty she sat in the captain's seat; if Han had watch she liked to snuggle in the over-sized chair he'd installed for the large Wookiee.

Neither Han nor Chewie seemed to mind her presence. Sometimes she read. She did a lot of writing, or thinking, and was teaching herself to needle point.

Black thread was all they had on the ship, and the needle was large. She'd never done creative work; to her it used up precious time, but when Han saw her bringing the needle up through one of his rags- she had outlined an 'M' so far, for Millennium, and planned an 'F' for Falcon- he offered her the yellow jacket Luke had worn for the medal ceremony.

"Always hated this one. I don't care if you destroy it."

"I don't 'destroy'," she answered sullenly. "I'm trying to embellish."

"You're poking holes."

She showed him the fabric of the rag. "Embellishing," she stubbornly repeated.

He had laughed. "It'll be a canvas to practice on, right? Is that what you call it?"

The cockpit was different than her terrace not just for the tight space but for the company it kept. Sometimes it was like a sanctuary, where no one spoke, awed to be among all those stars. For her, it was a place to remember and contemplate. Chewie felt it, too. Once she saw wet tracks on the fur of his face, starting at under his eyes, and she thought he may have been silently weeping.

Han was tired, worried, bruised and anxious. Sometimes he looked at her sitting in Chewie's seat, and then he would lean his head back against his own and doze for ten minutes.

In the cockpit he was... real. He reached for her hand and she let him hold it. She felt loved; she felt he sought out contact because the stars told him he needed it.

She did destroy the jacket. She removed the sleeves, the front borders, the neckline, and cut the front panels into four squares. It was easier to hold this way, easier to work.

"Can I see?" he said once. She had started on a flower during Chewie's shift. It involved symmetry and the equidistant placing of the needle and she'd gotten a good rhythm going. When Chewie left she wasn't ready to put it down.

She held up her yellow square with the black outlines of petals and leaves, and a thick line that moved in a wave to show the stem. "I'm rather pleased with it," she said.

He took it from her for closer inspection. "You didn't do this before?"

Leia shook her head no. "It was a common downtime activity, but-"

"You didn't get much downtime."

Her smile was reminiscent. "Believe it or not, my House earned. We had a nerf ranch. I was presented with a calf, Arritha, and she became my downtime. I visited her whenever I could. I liked the way she nibbled at my sleeve, how her nostrils would steam. I brushed her, and walked the pasture with her. She had three calves of her own, by the time-"

He placed a kiss on the yellow square and gave it back to her. He hoped to give her a new ending for her stories. They all ended the same. _Alderaan was destroyed._ Now she could add, if she wanted, _and afterward a smuggler_ _understood_. It didn't really help, but his point was at least there was something that followed.

"It's pretty," he told her. "Too bad black's all there is." He got thoughtful. "What if you unraveled something. Like a sock. I got a red pair, I know."

"Maybe," Leia critiqued. "I like the monochromatic. It looks like ink."

"You gonna give it back to Luke?"

Her eyes widened. "You didn't tell me it was still his jacket."

"I told him he could keep it. Don't know how it wound up back here. I don't think he liked it much either."

"Or had a need for it. Or a place to store it."

His head bobbed from side to side. "True."

Leia looked down at her yellow square. "I remember him in the jacket," she said fondly. And her thoughts drifted through the years, from her first meeting to their last.

She had kissed Luke. Not for love or goodbye. It embarrassed her now, especially when afterwards he was going out to battle and she missed her chance to give him a kiss for life. "The last time I saw him was in the medbay," she said.

He had thoughts about it apparently, for he nodded readily. "Yeah, and we know what happened there."

"I was trying to make you jealous," she told Han.

"Yeah," he grunted, not happy with his own reaction. "I don't think it worked. I mean, I felt something. Like I took two steps backwards with you. Nothin' to do with Luke."

"I regret it," Leia said. "I wish I could apologize to him."

"You will, in due time." Han gave a forced, bracing grin. "Trust me, he'll remember."

"You don't- he didn't like it, did he?" Luke had taken on a boastful pose when she released him.

"No, it was uncomfortable, believe me." Leia couldn't help but laugh a little. "He was tryin' to make me jealous, too. But it was nothing like _our_ kiss."

"No, nothing," she agreed.

Han leaned his body over the arm of the chair and pursed his lips. She didn't let him wait, and they enjoyed a sweet, quiet kiss.

"Did you know there were rumors about us on Hoth?" Leia said when they parted.

His smile was personal. "Started a few myself."

"I credited you with starting all of them."

His smile grew to include her. "What made you think of that?"

She sighed. "Luke, I suppose. He had a special status on Hoth."

"What," Han frowned. "Potential Jedi? He had that everywhere we went."

"He had the ears of the smuggler and the Princess," Leia said. "They all came to him with their gossip, trying to see what was true. There were bets, too."

"Yeah, I know about those. Not all concerned us, you know. Who was the first to get attacked by the wampa, stuff like that."

"Did you bet?"

"Lost that one. Bet on Janson. Turns out it was Luke!"

Leia traced a black petal. She felt sad all of a sudden. "That was a bad night."

Han's tone was teasing, "Sorry you suffered, in your nice warm quarters-"

"Chewie made me tea on the _Falcon._ "

"I melted ice. And my piss froze."

She laughed now.

"-and Luke moaned the whole night about a bunch of nonsense."

"I'm glad I can laugh now. I know it was difficult. Horribly so."

"Actually, I didn't mind the moaning 'cause then I knew he was alive."

She nodded quietly. Han took her hand again, and his thumb traced back and forth along the side of her index finger. They faced the cockpit, watching the stars.

"I hope he's alive," she said.

"Sure he is," Han said easily. "He's wonderin' the same as us. That make you feel better?"

"No." Surely he was. Soon the remnants of Echo Base would gather wherever new the location was, and Luke would eagerly await the _Millennium Falcon,_ but she would be long overdue. For some reason, his grief for her made her feel as bad as her grief for him.

"Well, look at us. We survived asteroids, a space slug. We're gonna run out of kaf in a few weeks, but we'll make it."

 _We'll make it._ He would keep telling himself that, Leia thought, until it came true. The one good thing, in her opinion, about the ship's break down was he was derailed from his plan on returning to Jabba the Hutt to repay his debts and face his death mark. She hoped in the months to come her kisses helped him find a better solution. Give him something to want to live for.

Yes. That was the problem with death, wasn't it? Sometimes it was stronger than life.

They sat quietly for a time, her hand still in his, and they watched the stars.

"Sometimes," Leia broke the silence, "when I'm in here, when I'm looking out the viewport, I can't remember- I'm not sure if it's the war I can't remember, or the feeling of being at war."

"It does seem... I don't know. Inconsequential," Han agreed.

"Yes."

The ship moved through the stars, and Leia felt like it was a parade, and they were being cheered.

"Can I have one of those?" Han lifted the hand he held to touch the yellow square.

Leia turned to him, surprised. "One of my squares?" It pleased her inordinately somehow, that he wanted one. "As a token?"

"No, not like that," he shook his head. "Not a token. But a-" he gave her a frowning look, as if it was her fault the words eluded him, and she smiled. "It's like... these." He waved his hand in a general direction. "Somehow."

"The stars?" Leia looked from her lap, where the yellow square rested, to back out the viewport. She drew her legs up in Chewie's seat so she could lift her upper body out of it, and kissed him again. "Tell me," she whispered.

"That," he indicated the square with his eyes, "is something you've never done before, right? And you're not a prodigy at it, are you?"

She smiled, and kissed him quickly again. "I would say most definitely not."

"You've taught yourself something beings all over have been doing... a long time. And all over."

"Yes." It was true that the needle arts existed all over the galaxy. On some places it was rudimentary and crude, simple seaming, on others it was extremely elaborate, with an industry that reflected an age of culture.

"I don't know, I'm thinking, kind of sputtering here," Han smiled shyly and Leia squeezed his hand to encourage him. "Is it how... we get in touch with ourselves? You know what I mean?"

She thought she did, and nodded. "The continuity. The sameness of behavior, or what we have in common."

"Yeah."

"That is like the stars," she smiled at him. "How we exist, on a larger plane. Where war... isn't there."

"Right."

She held up the square and looked at her simple stitches that formed a flower. "I'll make one for you."

He shrugged shyly again. "I'd carry it with me, you know."

"A handkerchief?" she teased.

"Nah," he smiled crookedly. "A memory."

She nodded again. "I could stitch a message on another," she said. "For Luke."

"What would you tell him?"

"The betting results. That you kissed me."

He laughed. "Kissed you finally. And don't forget the other part. One bet is you slap me."

"That I responded in kind."

"Mm. And often." He looked at her, and in his eyes among the stars there was a depth of message, beyond her scope of language, but she could feel it. They kissed again, and their hands caressed over their necks and through their hair, and Leia thought no matter what happened- if they starved or froze or crashed, the destination didn't matter. The journey was everything.

She was part of again, within. She hadn't realized her spirit jetted past the stars, maybe to the edge of the galaxy, to the void. A vast, empty place. Watching, unmoved. No life. No feelings.

From the cockpit, she thought of Han as an explorer, a true naut, come to the void because he could, because he had found it, and he held out his hand in invitation, and pulled her from nothing and brought her down, not by his side, just down, to join everyone else.


	22. Chapter 22

Han's long fingers sure could shuffle a deck of cards deftly. Luke didn't have near enough the practice Han did and he knew it was the practice, not the length of the fingers that made a good shuffler, but still. There was something mesmerizing about it, watching those sure fingers arc and bend and slice the cards into one another.

"I had a weird dream last night," Luke announced, picking up the card that was dealt face down.

No one was talking. Han was serious about cards. Leia had dropped by on an errand and finished her task, but it seemed she was reluctant to leave. She was standing between the two men seated at a table, her body half-turned. Luke's dream wasn't terribly important, only interesting, and he thought it might add to the moment, get her to stay.

Han paused after dealing Luke. "You want in?" he asked Leia.

She considered it. "What are you playing for?"

Well, Luke thought, an outright invitation worked too.

"Nothing," Han said. "Just playing."

Leia might be glad for the invitation, Luke thought. Work was done, and so was mess, and it was that time of evening where it was still too early to go to bed.

Work was actually never done, but Echo Base divided itself up in chunks of time, where one worked and one didn't. Luke knew Leia needed to work, and applied herself with untiring energy. It was the free time that bothered her more. She didn't seem to like it. It made her grouchy.

Rieekan had probably chased her out of the command center, and Luke grinned at her. He knew she had volunteered for extra duties, then requested a larger workload, but General Rieekan had declined her petition. He told her it was important to step back.

Perhaps if the free time actually had something to offer other than being too early to turn in. And sometimes Luke knew she glimpsed that it did. For instance, spending time with him, and Han and Chewie. Luke had a lot of friends on base; they regarded him as folksy and unselfconscious and even funny, but he always chose Leia first. He liked to make her laugh.

Han included her in the deal while she pulled up a chair and sat, and when each held five cards he slapped the deck down by his right hand.

"I have the Force, you know," Luke said while arranging his cards. "I can be real patient until one of you asks about my dream."

He was looking between Han and Leia, his good nature displayed in his grin, and Leia smiled.

"I don't have the Force," Han answered, "but I can be real patient too about not asking."

"All I know about me," Leia put in, "is I don't care to watch either of you exercise your patience all night. So tell us your dream, Luke."

Luke put two cards from his hand back on the table and Han dealt him replacements. "I was on the Death Star," Luke began. "You guys ever dream about the Death Star?"

"Don't think so," Han frowned. "But I don't remember dreams often. Princess?"

"I'll take three. And no, I don't dream about it."

Han passed her three cards and took two for himself. "Get on with it, kid."

Luke looked at his friends before starting. "Really? I would think- the memory at least- would show up in your dreams." He waited for them to answer, but they held their silence and he pegged them as liars.

"Well, it started on Tatooine. I was home. I was going to start my chores. I had-" he touched his hip, "I think it was my macrobinoculars, where I usually carry my lightsaber. But instead of going into the courtyard, I stepped through and it was the Death Star. You know how in dreams nothing is remarkable."

Leia nodded. "After you wake up you realize how illogical it was."

" _If_ you remember it," Han said. "As soon as my eyes open," he snapped his fingers, "it's gone."

"I was walking down a corridor," Luke continued, "and it was really quiet. No one about. So I went into a room- I passed a lot of doors- and decided to enter one, and there was a playground!"

"A playground," Han said, a little surprised. "Maybe there was daycare for any Imp kids on board."

Leia murmured, "How odd." Then she turned to Han. "Why would there be children on a battle station?"

Han indicated Luke with a toss of the head. "It was his dream. You going again, kid?"

Luke nodded. "Three."

"Two," Leia said.

Han took two. "In case you're bluffing," he winked at her.

Leia gave him her secret smile, which usually drove Han crazy because at the same time she paid attention to someone else. "Did you play on the playground?" she asked Luke.

"I did," Luke said. "There was a slide, and swings and a seesaw, and I went down the slide but then everything required two to play."

"Two what?" Han displayed his hand. He had two pair.

"People." Luke knew he held a losing hand; there was not a card that went with another and he didn't bother showing the others.

But Han peeked at Luke's folded hand and he snorted.

"Were we there?" Leia asked, spreading her cards face up on the table. She had three threes. "Han and I?"

"I knew you had something good," Han grumbled and he collected the cards and was shuffling again.

Both Luke and Leia watched him. "I had a sense you were there, Leia, but you were, I don't know. Rumored. Busy. I don't think Han was there."

"Maybe I was your chore," Leia said dryly.

Luke closed one eye, thinking, and Han dealt a new round. "Maybe," he said without irony. "I knew you were there somehow, without anyone actually telling me. Maybe I heard- let me finishing telling it.

"So I went looking for a partner so I could go on the seesaw. I went out and really far away down a corridor- it was way in the distance- I saw orange flight suits. Only they weren't pilots; they were prison suits, and they were shackled together. I ran up to them and told them about the playground, and they were all excited and they went with me." Luke stared at his cards a moment. "I don't need any," he declared.

"I give up," Han said. He threw his cards on the table.

"You didn't shuffle enough," Leia put down her cards as well.

"You saw me. Whaddya got, kid?" Luke showed a straight flush. "Damn, maybe I shuffled too much." He gathered all the cards and left them in a neat pile. "Are all your Death Star dreams happy ones?" Han asked Luke.

"No, usually they're frustrating. I'm looking for something."

"Did a prisoner go on the seesaw with you?" Leia wanted to know.

"They came on the playground and sort of swarmed all over it," Luke described. "There were stormtroopers, too. I guess guarding. They didn't play but they let the prisoners."

"Kind of 'em."

"But they were all partnered, in twos, and none would take their shackles off to play with me."

"Oh," Leia sounded sad. "You are still looking for something, even in a happy setting."

Luke nodded at her. "So I left again, and wandered around. I went in this- office, I guess it was. A paneled room. It was round. Somehow I knew it was the Emperor's library. Even though," he was realizing it just now, "there were no flimsis or data files to read."

"Your Death Star is pretty friendly," Han said. "Libraries and play grounds."

"Then," Luke sat on his hands. It was growing colder in the hangar. "I walked. I have this sense I walked a lot, like the whole night, and I couldn't find my way back to the playground. And then all of a sudden I met Darth Vader."

"Of course," Han stated. "What's the Death Star without Darth Vader?"

"Did you throw your macrobinoculars at him?" Leia wanted to know.

"Huh?" Luke said.

"You were carrying that instead of your lightsaber," Leia pointed out.

Luke shook his head. "He wasn't really threatening. And he asked me what I was doing, and I said I just needed a partner for the seesaw. He said he could do that for me, but only now, because later he was supposed to kill me, and wanted to know if that was okay."

"Thoughtful of him," Han remarked. He was rubbing his thumb along the edge of the cards, sort of strumming them.

"Right?" Luke nodded at Han. "He said he knew the way, but he didn't really, because we kept passing the same place, this- this, panel or something. And I kept saying 'I think we're lost' but he wasn't listening to me."

"Was he breathing loud? You know, like he does?" Han said.

Luke cocked his head. "He wasn't," he realized. "It was quiet. Even on the playground, with the prisoners, it was quiet."

Leia rested her chin on her fist and raised her brows. "You remember a lot of detail in your dreams."

"We passed the panel again, and then the next thing- the dream changed, or maybe it was another- there was this huge wave of water coming for us."

"Oh no!" Leia said. "What a change in tone."

Luke appreciated her commentary and smiled at her. "And Vader- he kind of held me. Pinned me." Luke struggled to see the dream memory. "It was like a choke hold. But he was protecting me from the water."

"Because he had to kill you later," Han assumed. "Not let the water take credit."

"Maybe," Luke laughed. "He didn't say."

"Then what?" Leia asked.

"I don't know. I woke up."

"So you never fought Vader?" Han wanted to know.

"Or played on the seesaw," Leia added. "What do you make of it?"

"I don't know," Luke said. "My dreams are usually so crazy that I think my brain is just blowing off steam."

Leia was thoughtful. "A playground is such a powerful symbol of childhood."

"Yeah," Luke said. "You run around and have fun."

"But also," Leia leaned forward, warming to her interpretation, "it's a place where you can stretch your physical limitations." She lifted one brow. "Learn your power, as it were."

"You think I was dreaming about the Force?"

"Your training," Han clarified. "She might be right about that. How it's not going anywhere. And the war. Darth Vader."

"You go for that, Han?" Luke asked. "Dream interpretation?"

Han shrugged. "Not all that fortune telling stuff. Might as well pick any card from this deck and I can tell you it means Darth Vader is after you." He lifted a stack of the deck. "See? Three of hearts. Vader is after you."

Luke became subdued.

Leia was shaking her head at Han. "Minds have worries," she said. "And if you don't take time to make a solution for the worry while you're awake, or at least acknowledge it, it creeps into your subconscious and you dream about it."

"But the solution is not to invite Darth Vader to a playground," Luke said.

Leia smiled at him. "No, it isn't."

"He might come at that," Han said. "He's looking for you bad enough. Even wants you alive. How come in the dream he said he would kill you when in real life he just wants you captured?"

"He protected Luke from the water," Leia turned to Han.

"The killing is for _later_ ," Han emphasized.

"I do remember thinking that," Luke said slowly, his eyes unfocused. "I remember feeling... disappointed. Even a little sad."

"That'd he kill you later? As opposed to now?" Leia said.

"That... we could have a seesaw ride together, but it wouldn't change his mind about me later."

"Oh, Luke," Leia sympathized.

Han laughed. "Imagine him as a dad on the playground."

Luke laughed a little too, somewhat uncomfortably, but Leia was not listening to them.

"The prisoners were fellow kids," she mused, "and the stormtroopers were- the parents?" She looked her question at both Luke and Han.

"Standing off to the side," Han said.

"Faceless," Luke added. "But... permissive?" Leia nodded at him. "You make me sound so deep," Luke said.

"Everyone is deep," Leia said. "Your dream was ostensibly about play. But in that, there's frustration, and loneliness, and a sense of being directionless."

"Kriff," Luke said. "I thought dreaming about a playground was so fun."

"Sorry- I shouldn't have done that. If it was fun, then it was-"

"No, it's okay. Kind of interesting, really. 'Cause what you say is actually true."

"I used to have a recurring dream," Han was shuffling the deck again. "I had a ship before this baby," he jerked a thumb behind him at the _Millennium Falcon._ "She was a maintenance nightmare-"

Leia rolled her eyes at Luke. "I simply can't imagine _._ "

Luke laughed.

"- and I was constantly in the yard fixin' her. And that's what I would dream."

"Oh, a work dream," Luke straightened in his chair. "I had those too, especially at harvest time. Everything goes wrong, right?"

"I would want to buy some part and couldn't find it, and the owner would say wait on the other customers. So while I'm tryin' to do my stuff, I'd have to find ten circuit boards, but there'd only be eight, so I'd think I'll just take one out of mine. Or I couldn't run the register, and there'd be a line of customers. Shit like that."

"You wake up tired," Luke said.

Han met his eyes, and Luke saw he understood. "Yeah."

"You don't dream those anymore?" Leia asked. Her eyes were teasing. "You put in a long list for parts last month..."

"Very funny," Han said.

"When I was a girl," Leia's mood changed quickly, "I used to have this dream. Only it was never the same. Not a recurring dream. But a recurring theme?"

"What was it?" Luke wanted to know.

"The end of the world."

"Kriff," Han said.

"Three times," Leia said. "Once it was from a war-"

"Wow," Luke said.

"Maybe twice, but I don't remember actually."

"And the other?" Han asked.

"The world just ended," Leia shrugged. "I happened to be alive when it was time for the sun to die."

"That's creepy," Luke said.

"In one I remember, the sun one, I had to give a speech to a women's group. And we all knew what was going to happen. Our scientists had estimated a time. When, precisely. We'd... run out of air or something. But we all went on about our normal lives. I remember being angry I couldn't be home with my parents."

Luke and Han exchanged a glance and Leia drew her shoulders up as high as she could and let them drop.

"It wasn't quite a nightmare," she said. "Deal, Han."

"Sure." Han separated the deck in two piles and put the bottom on the top. "How about a hand of Corellian rummy?"

"I don't know that one," Luke said.

"Thirteen is the deal, no discards."

"No discards?" Leia scoffed. "Forgive me, but that sounds-"

"Tatooine rummy is five."

"Alderaan is seven, and you play until one goes out."

"Hey, I know," Luke said. "Hoth rummy. Thirteen cards, and you keep playing until one goes out."

"Hoth rummy it is," Han declared. "Kid, get us something to drink, would ya?"

"Sure." Luke got up and headed for the ramp of the _Falcon._

"Oh," Han's voice chased after him. "And be careful of the cooler. The hydraulic is out and the lid'll slam shut on your hand."

"Someone's due for a work dream," Luke laughed as he disappeared inside. "It isn't happening in real life!"

He wasn't through the lounge yet when he heard Han call out, "Don't knock my bird!" followed by Leia laughing.


	23. Chapter 23

The waves were like children running playfully ahead, slapping the sand in a prank before rushing back laughing to the safety of their mother, the large green ocean.

The water sparkled in the bright sunshine. Where Leia walked the pink sand was above the water's edge, firm and wet. For a moment, faint impressions of her steps formed, and then they faded away. The wet sand told her the water was cold, but her bare feet were comfortable in the sunny air.

Leia had tied the arms of her jacket together around her waist, and she carried her shoes by their long ribbons.

Beside her, Han was Han. He had probably grown warm in his jacket, but he wore it, and his boots didn't seem to make navigating the sand any easier.

"I haven't been to a beach in forever," Leia sighed.

"Hoth's kind of like a beach," Han said.

Leia couldn't look at him, because turning her head up and to the side put the sun in her eyes and her hair blew in her face, but she smiled. "Nice try. I prefer my oceans not frozen."

Far away, it looked where water met sky, freighter boats were colorful specks. Leia counted four. Red, gray, green and white. Much closer, a swimmable distance, a large platform rose just a few meters above the waters edge, and water speeders bobbed. They were rentals, but no attendants manned the platform this time of year.

The beach was fairly empty. Far down the shore, Leia viewed others walking, colorless and small. But in her stretch of beach there was sunshine, several pods of sea rus basking, and birds overhead. They were like the boats on the water, she thought, hovering in deceptive stillness. They didn't flap their wings, held aloft by the wind, and they looked like kites.

Without telling Han, she veered upwards, high above the water line. Here, the sand was dry and rolling like the waves. It shifted under her feet and was slower going.

He followed her. The ocean turned his eyes green, and Leia took it as a sign of hospitality.

The beach was pink and wide. They had walked some distance from the public access boardwalk, and she estimated they were maybe halfway from the dunes to the water's edge. Leia sat. The sand absorbed the sun, and felt warm on her backside. She set her shoes beside her, and tucked her dress around her knees, aware of her bare legs under the skirt.

"Hey," Han said.

"Just for a minute," Leia said. "I'm tired. Chewie's coming?"

He nodded.

Their contact had encouraged them to visit the beach. "It's not the season," he said, "but you'll stick out if you don't. Everyone goes to the beach. The bedrock is only a few meters down, and in the summer just past the wave line it's a wall of ships, visitors putting down. There's a docking fee, but not this time of year. The water's too cold. Season won't start for three more months."

"He's going to land out here somewhere," Han said about Chewie. "I told him to look for the speeder dock. Hope there isn't another one three miles down the coast."

He wasn't happy about it, she knew. The somewhere part of it. He thought the contact might be setting them up, but he'd asked when they checked out of the hotel about the beach.

"Oh, yes," the clerk had beamed at him. "You must go. It's my favorite time of year. No crowds."

The significance of an ocean visit had not been mentioned to them in the mission briefing. Leia had wondered about it now, too. Perhaps it was an oversight.

She dug with her toes until her feet were covered in pink sand and rested her chin on her knees, looking out at the ocean. "Before, that gray freighter wasn't at all near the red one. They look like they're going to collide."

Han glanced out to sea. "Just looks that way. They're probably far from each other. Sharing the shipping lane."

Leia nodded. Han decided to sit on his knees facing the pink dunes, high hills of sand covered by a prickly ground vine. They had used the public access from that direction, and he was keeping watch.

"We could have docked here," Han complained.

"I think we should have," Leia said. She meant for the mission but also because it was beautiful.

"Wouldn't have to wait on a Wookiee."

The sun was glorious. During the season it apparently was a lot hotter and the water temperature warmer, but there was a sense of intimacy now which the seasonal crowds could prevent from developing. The beach felt like a personal belonging.

"Ah," she sighed, relishing the weather. "If we could bring this back to Hoth."

"Not sure the wampa would like it. Though they might eat those," Han indicated the basking rus.

Leia lifted her face and the sun's radiation was gentle. Like a hand cupping her cheek, warmth under her skin, spreading, inviting her she could be a sun too.

Her body conformed to the sand. She gave voice to a sudden weariness. "I'm tired," she allowed.

"Humans do something at night called sleeping," Han said.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Leia said. "I'm human."

"You sure about that?" He was talking about her sleeping habits.

"You kept me up with your snoring," she lied.

"My snoring," he declared, "plays a lullaby."

Leia watched the boats, the birds. The sea rus nuzzled each other and growled, and the speeders bobbed. The wind moved her hair and the sun was addicting.

She thought how she liked Han's nonsense here but not on Hoth. Why was that? Here, in a dress, she felt different. Her bare feet in the sand, the sun on her throat. Not less soldierly, or more feminine, but... different. Graced by nature? Was it that simple? Maybe the fatigue was more than emotional; maybe it was physically real. The idea of resting was enticing.

"What if we didn't go back," she fantasized.

"To what," Han questioned, "Hoth or the war?"

Leia didn't answer right away. She hadn't known she had a choice. She didn't really; the war was hers. Actually, it wasn't; no one should own a war, but maybe it was kind of like the sun here. She shared a closeness with this war others didn't.

"We could bring the war here," Han mused.

Leia looked at the rus and the green ocean. They had brought the war to Hoth. Set up a base where they were hidden from the Empire, hollowed out a cavern. Caused all sorts of environmental issues, like melting ice, domesticated tauntauns, and hungried snow creatures.

"No," she told Han.

Han kept up his imaginary scenario. "You could sell the war to the Minister here, get it out in the open instead of sneaking around meeting contacts. We'd wear shorts and sunglasses; race speeders on our days off."

It sounded nice, and the horrible thing was she could picture it. "And when the Empire attacks?" she asked, turning her head to ask him over her shoulder.

"Then we fight, same as the other places."

She couldn't answer, not even nod. The day to day sameness, the loss of joy, the gradual slipping of herself so she didn't even recognize who she was anymore: she was bone weary.

"Would ya?" Han had half-turned in the sand and his left side sat lower in the sand than his right. He sounded very curious. "Quit?"

"I'd sooner lose than quit." His back was touching her shoulder. She asked, "Would you?"

He laughed at himself. "I try every day. Don't I."

She smiled sadly, because this was true. "Why is it you can't, then," Leia said. She wasn't pushing him at all. The sunshine had her take a different approach. Instead of holding him at arm's length it gave her the courage to try and get to know him better.

He picked up some pink sand and let it sift through his fingers. "I'm safer with the Alliance. You guys are hiding same as me. Least I can do is help out a bit."

"But you talk about leaving your hiding place."

"Yeah. I talk. Truth is, I'm not ready."

"You don't have enough to satisfy Jabba yet?"

He smoothed the little mound of sand he had made. "Don't think I ever will." He squirmed a bit and tried to smile into her eyes. "Not what you pay me."

She didn't smile. She was trying to understand what it meant, to hide inside a war, and wondered how he wasn't bone weary too.

"You haven't had a furlough since the Death Star, have you," Han observed.

Leia shook her head. "I get away though."

"Get away working."

"What about you?" she challenged but he was no longer listening. Something had caught his attention.

He raised his comm to his lips, eyes sparkling like sun on water. "Hey, buddy. You close?" He kept his voice casual but Leia noticed the rus lifted their heads. A few made for the water. She took her feet out of the sand.

"Sooner," Han said into his comm. Leia could hear Chewie's rumbling language but couldn't make out any words. "Yeah, the downtown access."

Leia stood, and sand stuck to her skirt left as the wind caught it in the breeze. "What is it?"

He pulled her down by the wrist. "I heard speeders pull into the public access lot. Sounded like a few."

"What's the plan?"

"Get to the water." His blaster was out. "Can't quit now, Princess."

She trotted a few paces as he said, "Go!" then looked over her shoulder as she heard other voices. She couldn't make out words, but somehow it wasn't friendly. She sprinted.

The sand, pink and soft, was slowing her down. An engine throttled. Han fired his blaster.

She watched her feet. The wind took the noise of the blasters. They sounded like toys. She hit the water line and moved much surer on the firmer sand; Han, with his long legs and sense of urgency passed her, raising his knees high over the water as he ran. The speeders covered the span of dunes quickly and were soon on the beach. Han made a shallow dive, letting the water hide him. Blaster bolts raised droplets of water and steam.

The water was cold. Too cold to swim probably. The frigid temperatures seized her, clenching her jaw and holding her rigid for a moment. A blaster bolt zinged by her and Leia fell under the water, holding breath she didn't have, it was so cold, clawing pink sand to move her forward.

Han heaved himself on the speeder platform. Leia was trying not to draw a target on herself. She kept her head under the water and didn't splash.

"Come on!" he yelled at her, impatient and rude. He shot a release panel that tethered two rental speeders, and they started to move away from the platform, floating away on the current.

Han jumped on one, kicked the starter, and splashed unexpectedly back into the water. It stalled.

Leia had reached the platform. Blaster bolts were coming in earnest now and she felt exposed. Han surfaced, blowing water out of his mouth and cursing. He got back on the rental speeder, kicked the starter again, and this time the engine caught. He steered it around the back of the platform, behind a shelter where the attendants would wait, and Leia sprinted to him. He stretched out a hand and she took it with a leap, surprised at the strength with which he wrenched her in front of him on the seat.

"Fly, sweetheart," he said in her ear, and gripped her waist with his left arm.

How warm his voice was, his breath against her ear, she thought. Like sunshine. She switched the throttle to high, and they sped away. "Where's Chewie?" she hollered into the wind.

He said something, but she couldn't hear what. Over the open water, there was no cover, and she heard speeders behind them.

Decisions raced through her head. The platform afforded a barrier, but there were four of them. Behind them was the city. The boats were too far away. Up the coast was an outcropping where an old, eroded building had collapsed. The heads of rus bobbed and barked in the water.

Han alternately fired his blaster or curled into her trying to make himself small. Twice he said, "Ha!"

Leia turned inside the cove of the rubbled building, and turned the speeder around so Han would have a forward shot. She lowered her body under the duroplas shield.

Three now; one of the land speeders was sinking. Its rider was clumsily running through the water back to shore.

A shadow landed on top of the green water; Leia looked up and saw the _Falcon._ Only after that did she register the noise of the freighter's engines. Landing thrusters extended and Han shot the one driving the lead speeder in the chest. The rider splashed into the water, and the speeder jauntily cruised away by itself.

Two. Leia kept her speeder in motion, flying in an unpredictable pattern.

The freighter's ramp yawned open, water lapping at her edge. Leia steered around the ship, then raced towards their pursuers, and without needing to give each other a signal both she and Han jumped off when the ramp was near enough.

She didn't notice the cold this time. It felt almost exhilarating.

Chewie was in the cockpit. Leia could hear him roaring, and he fired a volley from the _Falcon's_ guns. The two speeders scattered.

Han and Leia dragged themselves on board. Chewie appeared, still roaring and trying not to get his feet wet but he grabbed Han's shoulder and pulled him so the ramp could close. Leia hit the control. Rivulets of water streamed from their clothing. Han's was red.

"You're hit," she cried out.

"Thigh," he grimaced from the floor. "Knocked me off the speeder."

He was propped up on an elbow, not pale; just not ready to try standing. Chewie was having a fit.

"Chewie," Han yelled. "Finish gettin' us out of here and you can have the damn rescue!"

The Wookiee stalked away, still making noise. Han and Leia panted at each other.

"Well, Your Highness," Han said. "Still tired?"

"Wide awake," Leia answered grimly.

"We managed a get away together," he leered at her.

She smiled. "In more ways than one. Let's get you fixed up."

"Better you than Jabba," he winced, using the wall to pull himself up, and then with Leia's help he limped back to his quarters. "You know?"

"I'll remember that," she said. She went to the medbay to gather supplies to treat his wound and blankets for their wet clothes.

The _Falcon_ had left the ocean waters. Leia remembered her shoes on the beach.

Han still had one boot on; that's how she knew it hurt. She helped him undress and she treated the wound, noting the healthy firmness of his muscle, the amount of watered down blood, and how golden brown his skin was under his clothing too.

Through the intercom system, Chewie informed them he was engaging the hyperdrive. "Back to Hoth," she told Han.

"With a hole in the thigh and a promise for some ion cannons," Han agreed. His head sagged back against the pillow.

She gave him an analgesic, and soon he was asleep on his bunk, snoring his lullaby, whatever that was. She took off her wet dress, and put on one of Han's warm sweaters. Then she lifted the blanket, and joined him on the bunk.

They hadn't brought the war to the beach, she reflected. It was already there. Even the sea rus knew it, skulking into the sea.

She settled in beside Han for a long nap.


	24. Chapter 24

There was no mistaking the sound of a ship, and to Luke's practiced ears, even after being away for so long, there was no mistaking the special noise of the _Millennium Falcon_. Han was making an unexpected visit.

The class of course heard it too, and Luke lost all their attention. They were glad for the break in monotony, and really he couldn't blame them. Luke had a lot of memories of being a child.

He held up his prosthetic hand, to work its magic. The class looked at him, mouths open. Some said, "oooh."

He had a glove for it, and usually kept it covered. But he had discovered recently the shiny metal of delicate, replicated fingers fascinated children. The prosthetic, more than anything else, is what made Luke The Master. It lent him an air of mystery; spoke of the experience of nightmares, always a profound part of childhood; and whenever the children saw it, they thought he was a badass. Not other times, as far as Luke could tell, which was interesting and no doubt meant something, but he'd have to think about that later; they kept him pretty busy.

But for now, in their youth, his prosthetic hand commanded their imaginations and attention. "Alright, alright," he told them, wiggling the metal fingers a bit. "Do you want to go outside and see General Solo?" The class cheered. "Then get your coats on. It's cold out there."

He smiled to himself as he waited for his students to ready themselves for the outdoors. They got so excited. Some were jumping up and down, one was lunge-walking across the room and shouting, "yeah" in as deep a voice as his young larynx allowed. At twenty-eight years old, Luke was long past childhood, but he remembered how thrilling it was for something different to happen, and he let the class indulge themselves.

Han was waiting outside. A crate was at his feet. He wore the Alliance great coat buttoned, and he cut a dashing figure. The only thing moving was his hair blowing in the wind. Luke checked his charges once more, ensuring their coats were all on properly. The crisp wind went through his own thin sleeves. The glove was back over his prosthetic hand, but that didn't feel the cold. Luke had lost its pair a long time ago.

"I'm sorry about your robes, Master Skywalker," one of the little boys said. He was human, one of Luke's disruptive kids. Not a bad kid. Luke hadn't decided if the child was bored or hadn't been taught to not act on his impulses. He needed to decide, because today he had learned the boy was inordinately talented.

Sometimes Luke thought he learned more from his students than they did from him.

He gave the chubby boy a gentle squeeze with his right hand, which happened to both be his dominant and prosthetic one. "Do you feel I am cold, Little Master?" he asked.

The boy nodded.

"That's very kind of you. We'll talk more about my robes later." He let the boy feel a tiny shove through the Force, pushing him towards Han.

The youngsters crowded around, cheeks turning ruddy in the cold air. They greeted General Solo cheerfully, a frequent visitor, and jumped about, asking him what he had brought.

"Little Masters, walk around and find something yellow," Luke instructed his young charges. He wanted a few moments alone with Han. Something yellow shouldn't be too hard to find. The leaves of the trees had changed color and fallen to the ground; most were brown but there were some that retained the red or yellow color they displayed before they dropped from the tree. And beyond where Luke liked to teach, past the big boulder, there was a patch of yellow flowers.

He hugged Han, looked him in the eyes. They were warm and wary, in between brown and green. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Luke asked, the formality of his language ruined by his huge grin.

Han lowered his eyes to indicate the crate. "Brought you something."

"How's Leia? She couldn't come?"

"She wanted to. Had a bag packed. But then a Bothan had to start a slide in diplomatic alliances."

"Ah, too bad," Luke sympathized. "That same one? What's his name- Fey'la?"

Han nodded. "Remember the good old days when so many Bothans died to bring us some important information?"

He had telegraphed the joke, or maybe Luke just knew him so well. "And you wish he was one of them. What'd you bring?"

"Life would be easier. I don't know how he got elected." Han opened the crate and Luke peered in. "And you'd see your sister more."

"Someone's always around to make life difficult," Luke said wisely. "It used to be you."

Han growled at him, "Very funny."

"It might still be you," Luke considered aloud, wondering what Han was thinking with the latest delivery.

Luke welcomed anything he could use at the Academy for the Force-Sensitive. But at first he blinked and arranged his face so it remained friendly yet neutral.

It was balls. The crate was crammed full with them.

Balls, Luke thought. Balls? He scratched his head. It wasn't very sensible. But as perplexing as it was, it sure did have Han Solo written all over it.

For one, the crate contained- not a dozen, not a couple dozen- several hundred dozen. Luke stared at the balls, his inner voice saying loudly and slowly so his brain understood how crazy it was. General Solo had purchased a huge quantity of balls for eight children.

"It's kind of a lot," Luke told Han.

Han was obviously satisfied with his present. He toed the crate with a recently polished boot. "Fool was betting-"

"What fool?"

"- these would be the next fad. Motion balls. They detect movement when you get close and bounce away."

"I have eight students," Luke reminded his brother-in-law.

"They're impossible to catch. He practically gave them away," Han said smugly.

"Where am I supposed to store them?" Luke wondered.

Han shrugged, unconcerned. "Half'll be in the lake before dinner."

Luke took in the presence of his friend. They'd known each other almost ten years now. Han didn't do much without a reason, and true, often his reasoning was spontaneous and not logical, but he wasn't just dropping by. Unless the motion ball deal was that good.

His thoughts were interrupted by a roar from Chewie, coming muffled from inside the Falcon.

"Yeah," Han shouted over his shoulder. "And do something for this fool, would ya?"

Luke looked around. "Me?"

"Yeah. You usin' the Force against the weather?"

"What do you mean?"

Chewie came down the ramp bearing a blanket. Han gestured at Luke's thin shirt. "You telling me you ain't cold?"

Luke smiled and waved at Chewie. "No, I would never do that. Lesson one: The Force grants you a power, but it doesn't make you powerful. Thanks, Chewie," he laughed as the Wookiee draped the blanket over his shoulders and then proceeded to drape his long, furry arms around him in a squeezing hug.

"I just dashed out," he explained. "We don't get visitors often."

"You're the one who picked the middle of nowhere."

"Almost nowhere. I'm glad to see you. Surprised, too. Don't you have a deployment coming up?" Luke asked Han. His sister Leia had told him the fleet was going on a peace mission. The fifth anniversary of the fall of the Empire was approaching, and the New Republic was going to celebrate with a show of force.

Not Luke's kind of Force. He was quite content to have resigned from the Alliance.

"Few days or so." Han was inexact, rather ungeneral-like.

Chewie seemed to grow bored with the conversation and gave Luke a ruffle of the hair before joining the Little Master class at play.

"And you guys have your anniversary to look forward to," Luke kept on chatting. Any New Republic holiday always brought to Luke's mind the romance of Han and Leia. War paralleled it, made it difficult but also strong, and they had wed not long after victory was declared.

The thought brought an involuntary smile to Han's lips. "Still thinkin' what to get her."

Luke reached into the crate and immediately there was a mass of wriggling toys. "How about a motion ball? I'll share."

Han smiled. "Nah, you enjoy."

"Hey, Little Masters," Luke called out to his students. The children all thought he didn't know their names, but that wasn't true. He just only called them all Little Master, because that's what they were.

They dropped their collection of yellow where they stood and came running.

This was Luke's first class, and they were together two years now. It was a very slow start to reintroducing the concept of the Force, but Luke had made a few important realizations after the Empire fell and the ways of the Jedi were free to return.

First of all, there was only Luke that in the past twenty years had any bit of training, and that consisted of one day aboard the Falcon and then three years later a few months in a swamp. Even a mouse droid could tell him his training was lacking.

Secondly, and while Luke meant no disrespect to his masters, he felt it. Underneath his admiration, there was a festering resentment. Oh, they may have been great Jedis once upon a time, but the only explanation Luke had for their behavior was all that training took away one's backbone.

The potential of the Force was another consideration. Once he had wanted to be the Jedi his father was, and then he had learned the identity of his father. He was a fallen Jedi, a rather important distinction. Luke had no desire to bring about another era of war, casual evil and horrific loss.

And the galaxy was enormous. He wasn't old, but how could one human reach so many in the few years he had left? The lesson in the mistakes of his father and the Emperor was the Force needed to spread on its own, and it needed to be shared.

Luke concluded the best approach was slow and careful. It wasn't him that mattered, but the first generations of active Force users. He felt he had the blessing of the Force. His first class just... came to him. He knew he wanted the very young, and the few places he went, seemingly random encounters on Kasshyyk, Coruscant, and Sullust, brought him his first class of eight.

He wasn't worried about teaching the Force. He was glad his students were all very young, because he was worried about teaching other things, the real life things like math, reading, and science. He wouldn't be able to afford any other instructor for a while, so the students had to accept him.

Han, typically, had summed it up. "You've opened a daycare," he said.

Maybe Luke had, but it was a start. He could handle this age. It was fun. He taught them things like tying knots and colors and how to count. They danced and jumped and explored the lake. Sometimes they cried. When the parents came, their children were happy, and so was Luke. The Force was beautifully present in these youngsters. Seven of them. The mother of the eighth had insisted she was special, and since Luke had no surefire test yet for whether a being was Force-sensitive or not, he took the child in.

The ball's sensor came to life and tried to wriggle out of Luke's hand. Han smiled. "Chase the ball, Little Masters!" Luke shouted. He tossed the motion ball high into the air and watched as his class stopped what they were doing to follow the trajectory of the ball.

"See that Force?" Luke turned to Han.

Han's brows raised politely. "No," he said.

All eight were moving in the same direction after the ball. "Just watch," Luke said. "Where did you get these?" he asked. "And why? Aren't you supposed to be being a general?"

"I get days off," Han grumped.

"You smuggle on your days off?"

"I broker. These are legit."

"I see." But Luke didn't. He was pretty sure Han shouldn't have a side gig.

Han shrugged again. "I wanted to..." He shrugged again. "I don't know. Show support," he grumbled uncomfortably. "I'll take 'em back if you don't want 'em."

"No, they're great." Luke was laughing and had to activate another ball, as sure enough, the first motion ball had sent itself into the lake. His Little Masters were changing tactics, splitting up and hunting the ball from different directions. He added a second ball to the game. Han and Luke watched the children for a while without speaking.

Then Luke told Han, "I had an incident today."

"Yeah?"

"It was partially my fault. I left the kids alone with my lightsaber."

Han chuckled. "This oughta be good. Want me to count their fingers?"

"And I learned something," Luke said.

"I think you should have known not to leave them alone already," Han said. "Anything get damaged?"

"My robe," Luke said sadly.

Han smiled. "I was wondering why you're out here in just a shirt."

"That one," Luke gestured with his chin at a little stout human boy, "managed to set it on fire."

"With the lightsaber?"

"With the Force, I think. A saber would, you know, cut. Slash. Not put to flame. He used it in a way I hadn't. It was hanging on a hook, and when I came back in, it was on fire and the kids were standing back just watching it burn."

"I hope someone had a bad feeling about that."

Luke nodded in agreement. "They were all pretty scared. But you're right; I'm going to have to address complicity and mob mentality."

"They're what- three?"

"Six. You're a bad judge of age. Not that that kind of talent isn't bad-"

"- it is pretty special."

Luke nodded again. "- but he can't use it just because he can do it."

"Give him a job," Han suggested with a shrug. "Even though he's six."

"As what? A pyrotechnic?"

Han shrugged again. "You use flame at all? Light lamps? Stuff like that?"

Luke gazed at Han. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Teach responsibility. I like it."

A motion ball had bounced off one of the students, a Twi-lek with sensitive loku, and the boy was crying. "Come here, Little Master," Luke called. The eight children stopped, checking to see which one their Master Skywalker wanted. "Let me see."

He used his left hand to gently touch the sore spot, cooing and sympathetic. The Twi-lek's sniffling stopped. "It hurts for a minute, doesn't it?" Luke said. "It's telling you something."

"Ow," the boy said.

Luke laughed and he saw Han smile. "Yes, ow. Let it finish feeling the ow. Once it knows you listened it may stop."

The boy nodded. "Can I have a ball, Master Skywalker?"

"Sure." Luke let the boy take one and then he lifted several more out of the crate using the Force, scattering them towards the children.

Han watched them play, an amused and wistful look on his face. "You're good with them," he told Luke.

"I oughta be by now," Luke laughed.

"That's why I came."

"Oh, a performance review," Luke joked. "Leia sent you, didn't she? To check I'm good with them?"

"Just thought I'd hang out with you, see what it's like."

"The life of a teacher?"

"The kids."

"Oh." Luke blinked once to hide surprise. "The kids are great. Usually. You, uh-"

"Leia has this pillow," Han said.

Luke nodded. "Sure," he said. He knew it would come out eventually. "Next time bring me a couple hundred of those."

"It's on the couch, and we keep it between us."

"Okay. I'm seeing the beginnings of a pillow fort?" Luke spread his palms open to show he was open to anything.

"No. She said if we're thinking of what it's like to be a parent, to pretend the pillow is in our care and see what we do."

Luke asked the Force to keep him from reacting. This was Han, running scared and directly towards the thing that frightened him.

"What do you do?"

"Well, we fight over it." Han brought his eyes down to Luke's.

"You fight over a pillow? How?"

"Like, who's going to hold it."

Luke covered his mouth with his gloved hand. "Sounds like a lucky pillow."

"Yeah." Han started to grin, one side of his mouth curling up. "It is."

"Maybe you should get another pillow," Luke suggested. "So you don't fight."

"And," Han scratched his head, "the other day, I went to get a beer; Leia wasn't even home, and I'm sittin' on the couch with the damn pillow in my lap. I want a beer, and I'm actually thinkin', what do I do with the pillow? Know what I did?"

Luke's hand had to stay at his mouth. "What'd you do?"

"I brought the fucking thing with me! To the cooler! To get a beer."

His mirth won and Luke laughed. "How nice of you to share that experience with the pillow."

"It's not like it was gonna roll off the couch." Han was bemused at himself.

"No, I don't think pillow parents have to worry as much as, you know, parents of an actual being."

"Right," Han agreed with a nod.

The two men stood and watched the motion balls dance away from the kids, who didn't even seem to want to catch them. They danced and twirled and fell before them, making the balls bounce away. Chewie was playing with them, teaching the kids to stalk. One hung off the Wookiee's great leg. Ripples spread in the lake from the ones that sank below the water.

Luke was thinking of Han and Leia, what must be hours of discussion, so much more than a pillow fight. He missed his sister. He missed her a lot. He thought maybe next year he'd move his school a little closer.

After a long silence, Luke said, "So I'm an uncle to a pillow, huh?"

Han grinned. "Yeah, you can pillow sit anytime."

"That's why you came? To let me know I'll be an uncle?"

"No." Han glared at Luke. "To let you know Leia's gonna be a mother. And me a father."

Tears sprang in Luke's eyes. He didn't expect them, but he showed them to Han. "When?"

"Not yet."

Luke nodded. "Gods damn," he swore. "I'm so happy."

"Yeah," Han nodded again.

Luke watched his students again, letting his mind go, feeling things deeply. "I love Leia and you, you know," he said. "It's great." He looked at Han, the wind blowing his hair, the warmth in the eyes, the love and fear and wonder he tucked carefully away until a pillow- a pillow!- brought it out. It was a fantastic realization, and Luke had a sense of Life, of the Force maybe. If ever the Empire rose again, he knew without a doubt it would be defeated, just from this moment alone.

"I figure kids are different than pillows," Han said with a smile.

"A little bit," Luke said. "But the parent's love is the same."

Han made a face. "A little stronger, I'd think."

"You took a pillow to the cooler 'cause you didn't want it to be alone!"

Han smiled fully.

There, he'd gotten his answer, Luke saw. "How do you turn these balls off?" he wondered.

"I don't think you do. Think that's why they were such a deal," Han admitted.

Luke shook his head. "You're crazy, you know. I can't let you borrow one of my Little Masters but you can hang around for a bit."

"Okay."

"Might not be too interesting, because- actually, it's a good trick. Give 'em lots of fresh air and exercise, and they sleep like a Hutt after a meal."

After the thirtieth ball sank below the surface of the lake, Luke invited his Little Masters for a snack with General Solo and Chewbacca. He used the Force to bring the crate inside, and his Little Masters walked underneath, stretching their arms to pretend to hold it up.


	25. Chapter 25

Chewie ducked his head as he entered the cockpit and turned immediately to flip switches needed to release the _Falcon_ from its docking to the mobile medical hospital. He heard Luke's voice over the ship's comm.

"Take care, you two," Luke said.

He sounded good. Much better than the half-hysterical mess they took on board over Bespin.

Chewie barked toward Lando's back so that he didn't disconnect, *Wait.*

He wanted to give a proper goodbye. When the youth- or kid, as Han called him- arrived at the med ship he only let Leia be with him. And then when he woke up from surgery he didn't want to talk to her either, letting the whole day go by without allowing visitors. But after a night's rest he called them all back- all: not just Leia and Chewie, but also the droids and Lando, and he wanted to talk about what should happen next. Not just talk; plan. And not even plan. Lead.

Chewie's farewell stopped abruptly in his throat. Lando had swiveled in the captain's seat to look at him.

*Are you a blind bird?* Chewie growled at him. He squatted in between the seats and put his elbows up on the console.

*Princess?* he called. He wanted to have a heart to heart. *Do I have to? Can't I just rip his arms off?*

Lando understood Shyriiwook, but Chewie didn't care. It was better he knew what he was thinking.

Chewie peered up through the viewport. Somewhere, up there, at an angle where he really couldn't see her, he knew the Princess was gazing out her own.

Luke didn't understand Chewie's language. Some, but they hadn't seen each other in a while. "I don't know what you said," Luke said into his comm, "but she's laughing a little."

*Princess,* Chewie whined. *He's wearing Han's clothes.*

"May the Force be with you," Luke said, and cut off his end of the comm.

Now Chewie was alone with Lando. He hadn't felt it yet, took it into his heart, but there was no mistaking things weren't as they should be. It was different with Lando in the cockpit.

"What," Lando answered Chewie's glare. He pulled a lever down and the ship began to move away. "I needed something to wear."

*You did not.*

"I did!" Lando protested. "I smelled like blaster fire. That kid-"

*Don't call him that.*

"-Luke, then. He bled on me-"

*He wasn't bleeding. He was crying.*

"And then when I was trying to see what the deal was with the hyper drive-"

*Where did you even find that vest?* Chewie couldn't quite believe the sight before him. It was stupid to get upset, but he wasn't going to deny how he felt. *You fckn blind bird.*

The Wookiee language Shyriiwook did not contain vulgar words like Basic used. Not swear words, anyway. If you wanted to insult a Wookiee, you called them a blind bird. And a Wookiee could utter a noise, like if you dropped a log on your foot, but it really had no translation. It was pain, frustration or anger, and a specific howl said it all.

But Chewie had lived among humans a long time and he understood Basic like a native. If Han had dropped a log on his foot, he'd hop up and down on one leg, repeating one word, "Fuck! _"_

The way Han led his life, pain, anger and frustration were common emotions, and his favorite way to express that was with the word 'fuck'. In fact, when the platform was too low that Han could no longer see him or Leia, and the liquid carbonite started to pour in over his boots, Chewie knew that's what Han was thinking. _Fuck._

And so Chewie adapted the phonetics to Shyriiwook. Sometimes it was the best way to communicate with a human. At least, it was with Han. Chewie had been pleased with the result. Put the fangs over the bottom lip for that 'f' and it made an angry, fierce expression. And the 'ck' sound was common in Shyriiwook. It came out 'fckn' when Chewie growled it.

The first time Han heard it from Chewie's mouth it had stopped him dead in the middle of an argument. "What the fuck does _fckn_ mean, huh. You must be really pissed, can't even talk right."

But then he'd gotten used to the sound of a Wookiee using a Basic swear word. Chewie thought it had even amused Han a little.

It had to be Han's vest, because Lando hadn't been anywhere but the medcenter or the ship, and while the medcenter had a gift shop, it most certainly did not offer shiny men's vests for sale. But Chewie had never seen Han wear _that_ one.

*No one needs to wear a vest,* Chewie said now.

"- I got oil on my cape-"

*The funniest part is you don't even know,* Chewie shook his head. Han had told Leia Lando was a conman. He wasn't even that, Chewie thought in disgust. He was a pretender. It was pathetic.

There weren't many humans Chewie actually liked. He used to like Lando, but maybe that had been through Han. *It looks silly buttoned all the way.*

"Two reasons, alright?" Lando raised all five fingers. "One, did you know _I_ bought this one for him?"

Chewie hadn't known that. *I don't care,* he said. *You look like a fckn dandy.*

"Well, I did," Lando nodded significantly. "And two, I bought it for him, and I was hoping, but I bet he never wore it. Did he."

Good gods, Chewie thought. He _is_ a blind bird.

"No, no." Lando shook his head with a half smile. "No. Nothing like that. I can see what you're thinking. No. It's just, at the time, I thought I had a little influence on him; thought he'd go upscale. Sabacc tournaments are classy affairs."

Chewie sniggered. Influence.

"And," Lando smoothed his hands over the satiny fabric covering his chest. "Wanted to pay my respects, show that-"

Chewie snapped. He stood in a rage, pulling Lando up by those buttons. *You fckn human,* he growled, holding that 'f' in a fanged display, *he is not dead. He is-*

Lando's hands were now clutching Chewie's wrists, trying ineffectively to pull them away from his chest. His eyes were staring out the viewport, as if in hopes Luke was able to see the attack. It gave Chewie great pleasure to see the whites of his dark eyes.

"Alright!" Lando choked out and Chewie released him, remembering the Princess. "I didn't mean _that_ , Chewie, I simply meant, as way of, you know, apology, of sympathy."

Chewie was still standing, but he waved his fists about his head. It felt good to pretend Lando's arms were in them. *You are the one in need of sympathy, don't you see that.*

Lando tugged at the vest, straightening it, and took his seat again. "Solidarity. That's the word I was looking for. Your quest is mine."

*No.* Chewie shook his head. *Your quest is to save your own hide.*

Frustrated, Lando practically whined, "How many times do I have to tell you. I had no choice."

*There is always a choice. Always.*

"Fine. I made the wrong one. Happy?"

*Yes.*

The navigation computer flashed green, its calculations to Tatooine through hyperspace complete. Lando engaged the engines and the stars stretched to streaks. The medcenter was left far behind.

Chewie finally took his seat. He wasn't happy. Lando looked like a fool. But he'd known Han to act like one a few times. Not in recent memory, but it had been known to happen.

This wasn't about Lando.

It was about Chewie, and Luke and Leia.

He lifted his great Wookiee head, and roared into the cockpit that Shyriiwook noise of pain, anger and frustration.

And loss.


	26. Chapter 26

The great shield doors gaped open in wait hours longer than they should, and the hangar was freezing, even more so than usual. Two men paced before the opening, blasters held at the ready. They were no match against the blizzard, which encroached inside little by little, forming a snowdrift. Their weapons could do nothing against the wind either, which whistled around the anchored space craft, lifting wings with a shudder.

Chewie had not moved in a long time; not since Leia had asked him to stay with her. He rested his forehead against the landing thruster of the _Millennium Falcon,_ and Leia worried if it was possible to become frozen to it.

He wanted to be out there. He wanted- to die, Leia thought, and she wondered if she was supposed to want that too, and why didn't she.

She hadn't let him. Had even lied to him, that Han said for him to stay with her. At the time, she couldn't let him go. She could now. She saw, now, how she was meant to have nothing.

She felt cold. Lightheaded, dazed. Her thoughts were little more than the swirls of snow tossed about by the storm.

She might die in here.

The air was so cold she thought her nostrils were bleeding. Every time she drew breath the frigid temperature sliced the corners of her nose.

And she was sheltered. Outside-

There was a clatter of tools, and some cursing. Wedge Antillies kicked a generator and the lamp hanging over the snow speeder dimmed for a second. The men were yelling at each other. Nerves were frayed.

Leia checked her chrono. Hours ago since Han had gone out, and the situation had deteriorated as badly as the storm. The hangar was full with extra bodies, pilots and friends who should be at mess or in their quarters, not fussing around a snow speeder like it was on a sick bed.

She kept expecting Han to come back. She kept wondering why he didn't.

Luke was, most likely, dead. She couldn't help having a little bit of hope, but deep down, she knew the facts pointed one way. His last transmission was hours and hours ago, and she would never forgive herself that she had raised the alert far too late.

Apparitions, two men- not the ones she was waiting for- suddenly stood in front of her. She was too cold, too... nothing to gasp, cry, beg or deny, but the officers waited for her to do something. Finally, one spoke, expressions of sympathy and worry on their faces. "Commander Skywalker has still not reported in, Your Highness."

She nodded mutely. She wanted to scream at them, but she lacked the energy and the words. She might die, she realized.

To her face, they called him Commander Skywalker, but he was Luke all other times. Their boss, their colleague. Well-liked for his ability, his humility, and this way to death was-

Well, they all expected different. Only Luke didn't, that his end would be grander, heroic. Not lost in a snow storm.

Unless he had found a cavern, and kept his head and his pack, and was waiting out the storm...

A glimmer of hope warmed, then extinguished just as quickly. If that was the case Han would never find him. That meant it was Han who was dead, he and his weak-lunged tauntaun somewhere on the plains, covered by huge drifts of snow, and they might never recover his body.

If only, Leia prayed. If only out of the darkness, Han Solo came in through the doors, practically sauntering because he was lucky, that dashing conceited smile wide on his face, a shoulder supporting Luke because he was Force-blessed, embarrassed and frostbitten.

One was worse than two. And if she didn't want one, and couldn't bear two, then...

... she would die.

She didn't want to, but she would. Leia was nodding to herself. Languish away. This was heartbreak.

Something spoke. From deep within her. _You've had heartbreak before._

Yes, she told the reminder. She remembered it. It was going to kill her then, too. Darth Vader had ordered her brought back to her cell, kindly enough. If heartbreak didn't kill her soon enough, then he would see to it that she was put out of her misery.

And she had lain in her cell, cold and numb then too, and she welcomed death and wondered why it took so long.

But then, Luke came and snatched it away.

 _You don't need that,_ he seemed to say. _I have something else._

He called it a rescue, but it was something else, visible on her skin. A flush over her cheeks. And her eyes had gleamed.

Life is what he had. Not pulse or breath, but... an energy. She could move. There was fight, determination. She was alive, and she knew it. By the time she met Han out in the corridor exhilaration had banished death.

She was wrong, though, wasn't she? And Leia felt very hurt, that death had let her deceive herself for so long. If she had known she was on borrowed time, she wouldn't have bothered with Luke and Han.

Wouldn't have bothered to love them.

"Your Highness."

It was Major Deklin, come to seal Luke and Han's fate. Leia couldn't meet his eyes.

"The shield doors must be closed," he said as if it pained him.

She gave permission, and told death to wait a moment longer. Let her have this vigil, because Han and Luke meant more to her than they would ever know.

That was a mistake of her life, one she kept repeating. That's what the other deaths taught her. So she would wait the night through, and if they were not found or if they were brought in dead, then she would go to her quarters and settle herself on her cot like she had in her cell, and when they came to check on her later Princess Leia would be dead.

She had died, finally, of a broken heart.


	27. Chapter 27

Delay after delay caused the Rogues' return to Echo Base on Hoth to be unpredictable and ultimately very late, with only a skeleton crew and a half-awake General Rieekan there to greet them. Luke spied the general's sleep shirt peeking out of the quilted uniform jacket; evidently he'd asked to be roused when the squadron landed.

"Kriffing cold," Wedge muttered as he held a crisp salute, waiting for the others to line up.

Luke had never put much thought into why he liked General Rieekan. Now Luke stood grinning at the general's tousled hair, feeling a warmth that shouldn't exist in the ice cavern. General Rieekan had gotten out of bed for them. What a nice thing to do, Luke thought. Sure, he was general and all that, but he could have left it to the major in charge.

The briefing, the general told them, could take place in the morning given the late hour. He congratulated the twelve on a successful mission, bade them to rest up, and turned to go back to bed. The Rogues all wished him a good night.

Janson called out, "What's new on Echo Base, sir?"

The mission, a defense of Altiv, had lasted two weeks. Not a single shot was fired.

Rieekan turned and gave Janson a flat grin. "We're still here," he said. It seemed he was too sleepy to go into more detail, but almost as an afterthought he turned back and told the men, "One of the tauntauns is pregnant."

"That's new, I suppose," Wedge muttered at Luke's side.

"Should we care?" Janson asked.

"Yeah we should care," Luke stated in his commander persona. "The tauntauns are helping us fight this war."

"Not as personnel," Janson argued.

"No," Luke agreed, "but they're not equipment either." His commander persona lapsed. "I wonder if it's my mount."

"Shmi," Wedge said with a sly smile.

Luke asked for the same mount each time he went on ground patrol. He felt they had a good working relationship. He'd named her Shmi, after his grandmother, who had died before he was born. There was no special reason, except to remind himself of his roots.

"You gonna be a dad, Skywalker?" Janson teased, and everyone laughed.

"What kills me is a tauntaun got luckier on this base than I have all year," Wedge said ruefully.

There was more laughter, and the men headed to their lockers. As they shed their flight suits, Janson called out to Luke, "I'm surprised your princess ain't around to welcome you home."

"It's late, Wes," Luke answered without affront. "And she's not my princess."

"Falcon's all shut up, too," Wedge observed across the hangar. "Thought Solo might throw us a party. Evidently he's got a bedtime, too."

"Or a princess."

Luke grew irritated. It was one thing to say things about him and Leia, because he knew they weren't true, but he didn't like it when they said stuff about her and Han.

"Shut up," he snapped. "More talk like that about High Command's gonna earn you tech duty, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," Janson grumbled.

Luke wasn't through. "Get your own friends so you don't have to go nosing about mine."

Their quarters beckoned, three rooms housing twelve pilots, and the men began to feel exhaustion seeping into their bones.

"Can we sleep in, Boss?" Wedge asked. They fell on their bunks without undressing.

"We're not on the roster, so enjoy," Luke answered.

More quickly than usual, the rooms fell to snores.

Luke got up early. It was his intention, though he could use more rest. He gathered his things in the dark and palmed the door opening. It slid back noiselessly, but there was nothing he could do to prevent light spreading in from the corridor. It hit Wedge's bunk, whose face twisted in his sleep, and he rolled over.

Luke dressed in the communal 'fresher. It was not easy and very uncomfortable. His fingers grew stiff with cold in the few moments of exposure and he had trouble zippering his jacket.

"Kriffing cold," he muttered to himself. He said the same thing at least a hundred times a day on Echo Base, and he realized with a start he hadn't heard himself say it in the last two weeks.

Leia was in the mess, sipping tea and scrolling a gloved hand down the screen of a data board. Her back was to the entrance but Luke would recognize the elegant hairstyle and white snowsuit anywhere. He slid into the seat across from her.

"Hi."

Her smile was open and real. Not many were granted that smile. Those that were didn't see it often. Luke was so glad when he saw it.

"Luke!" she beamed. "I heard you were back. Congratulations."

"Mmpf," Luke grunted. "It was a long time for nothing."

"Not nothing," Leia contradicted, falling back into an official tone everyone received. "A peaceful resolution to a tense situation."

Luke grinned without humor. "Is that what High Command's calling it? The guys were disappointed we didn't get to show our stuff."

"I'll never understand the machismo of battle," Leia shook her head and looked down into her tea. "The way I look at it, there's no casualties and no damages."

"True," Luke acknowledged.

"You're all back in one piece. Tell your men it makes me happy, Commander. That should give them something to talk about."

"We're the Rogues," Luke said. "Ace pilots."

"Gossips," Leia said "without resentment. "Get your meal."

Luke fetched a tray piled high with food. That was one thing he liked about Echo Base. There was always a lot to eat, and he was always hungry. It had been explained that the human body burned more calories trying to stay warm, so they needed to eat more.

He lifted a roll and felt a draft on his inner wrist. He tugged his glove down.

"The briefing is scheduled for o-ten," Leia informed him.

"Thanks," he said after swallowing the roll and before shoving a forkful of egg into his mouth. Despite being ladled out from a warmer, it had lost all its heat. "Kriffing cold," he muttered.

Leia smiled. "You had two weeks of not wearing gloves. Warm food..."

"Two weeks of sitting in a cramped cockpit. How's Han?"

"I did get a trip sitting in his cramped cockpit."

Luke pretended to look around. "Don't let the guys hear you say that."

Leia smiled again, and she rested her jaw in the palm of her hand. "We gave him something different to do."

"And you got to come along?"

She nodded. "It went well. An extraction."

"Sounds more exciting than my peaceful staring match."

"An Imperial general's cover was blown as one of our spies. We pulled him out before he was arrested."

"Quick action," Luke commented.

"It was an emergency. Felt like it at the time anyway."

"How'd you get him away?"

"He put himself in an escape pod off a Destroyer and deployed it, and the Falcon located him before the Empire did."

"Humph," Luke grunted. "Not very original."

"Perhaps not." Leia was still smiling. She knew Luke was referring to the time she had sent the plans to the Death Star in an escape pod.

Luke moved on to the starchy root vegetable. "Did you get some nice weather at least?"

"For a couple of hours. The trip itself was longer."

"Is he here?"

"Yes. Madine. He's pushing for a position on Command."

"One of those, huh."

"Yes. He's causing Rieekan some grief."

Luke was sorry to hear that. "You know, this stupid bit of politics within our own ranks is not going to win the war."

"I agree completely. And no one trusts him."

"You can't. I wouldn't."

"No." Leia looked thoughtful. "He and Han came to blows before we even got back."

She looked somewhat pleased about that, Luke thought, and he wondered why. "Machismo of battle," he said, and she laughed.

"Maybe so."

"I heard a tauntaun is pregnant."

"My," Leia said with her brows up, "what is considered news here. You heard about what's going on in husbandry but not about our new general?"

"Rieekan was sleepy."

Amused, she shook her head slightly from where it rested in her hand. "I'm glad you're back." She gazed at him a long moment. "It's never the same when you're not here."

Luke nodded, embarrassed and pleased but also hungry, so he kept at his meal, trying to come up with a suitable answer.

She watched him eat, and finally stood with a sigh. "My shift's about to start. I'll see you at the briefing."

"From the other side of the table," Luke grumped.

Leia scooped up her tea cup and as her hip grazed the side of the table gave his shoulder a couple of consoling pats. "It won't be that bad."

Luke finished mess by himself, grinning into his tray.

"This is new, eh," Wedge remarked as he, Luke and Wes Janson made their way to the control center. "Do you see that?" He pointed at the ground.

"Yeah, there's funny prints in the snow," Janson said.

Luke slipped on the ice, and grabbed Janson's shoulder to keep his balance. "Kriffing cold," he said. But Janson was right; the path down the passage was dimpled with tiny holes. He looked up and feared for a moment the ice cavern had been melting during his absence, dripping tiny needles of icy water onto the floor.

"And someone was in my locker while we were gone," Wes added darkly.

"In your locker," Luke speculated. "I doubt that."

"Why would anyone go in your locker?" Wedge wanted to know.

"Look at this," Wes flung his arm out before Luke, causing the men to stop.

"Look at what?" Luke questioned. The South Passage looked as it always had: ugly and cold and barren.

"This!" Janson exclaimed, shaking his arm and indicating his sleeve.

"Oh, how'd you do that?" Luke finally spotted what Janson wanted him to see. He poked a gloved finger on the fabric. There was a hole in the sleeve of Janson's jacket, just at the inner elbow. "You get it caught on something?"

"I don't know," Janson's voice went up. "I wasn't here, remember? It's very neat, isn't it? Creeps me out."

"What creeps you out?" Han Solo's voice came at them from the other end of the Passage. Not a loud call; acoustics carried easily as they bounced off the ice walls. He was making his way easily over the ice.

Luke waved and gave him a smile. The Alliance had two goals for him that day: attend the briefing, and patrol a sector. It was a light day. Paying Shmi a visit had been one of his personal goals anyways; the other two were eating with Leia and seeing what Han was up to. So basically his day was almost done. He might even get a nap in.

He returned his attention to Janson. "Very neat. As your commander, I advise you to req a new suit or-"

Janson lowered his voice. "Who the hells would cut a hole in my sleeve?"

"Hey, Solo," Wedge grunted.

Luke did a double take. Somehow time went very fast just now, or Han managed to navigate the icy corridor much faster than Luke was able to.

"Kriffing cold," Luke said.

"Heard they don't have to restock any proton torpedoes," Han said about their mission. "My condolences."

"Yeah, you get it," Wedge said. "We were hoping to put a dent in the Empire. Command held us back."

Han held out his arm in the same posture as Janson. "This a new salute? Can't keep up with you guys; always tryin' to outdo the Empire." He was wearing a parka, thick with the fur of some animal lining the hood. He'd covered his boots with the thick outercloth the Alliance provided.

"Ain't this more your salute, Solo?" and Wedge stuck his middle finger out of his gloved fist.

Han ignored him and peered down at the hole in Janson's sleeve. "Oh, you got a hole," he tsked.

"Any idea how I got that hole, Solo?" There was a knowing tone to his voice, just shy of accusation.

"Nope," Han said evenly. "I'd say you got worms, Janson."

"Worms?! This isn't the work of worms. Look how regular it is." He tugged downward on the wrist cuff to smooth the crinkles. "No worms can live on this ice ball."

"Probably there's something," Han reasoned mildly. "Tauntauns are here-"

"Barely. They gotta take shelter at night."

"They sleep," Han said. He was strangely tolerant of the creatures. "Humans do too, anywhere they live. I bet a snow creature bit it."

"The wampa?" Luke said doubtfully.

"Looks like a molar toothprint," Han observed. He couldn't be serious and Luke laughed.

"Ah, kriff, now I've heard everything. A wampa opened my locker and tasted my sleeve?" Janson's scoff dissolved into laughter.

"And he didn't bite it with his fangs, but chewed it at the back of his mouth, where the molars are," Wedge said.

The four men laughed. "Maybe it's a she," Han offered. "And she's building a nest. Maybe her saliva can tan a hide."

"I heard a tauntaun was pregnant," Luke said.

"I don't bother with the sexual reproduction of tauntauns," Han said dryly.

"This ain't hide," Janson said.

"Hells, I don't know," Han seemed to grow tired of the discussion. "Maybe one's creeping around the base, all camouflaged, opening lockers and sampling stuff."

Wes actually looked around. "I don't like to think of it. You seen that one they bagged? Looks more ferocious than your Wookiee, Solo."

"He's not my Wookiee."

"Chewie's no one's Wookiee, Wes," Luke broke in sternly. "I don't want to hear you say it."

Wes waved his hand. "Didn't mean nothing by it. Really I didn't. I just meant your friend. Your Wookiee friend."

"Whatever caused it, Janson's got to break out the sewing kit," Luke brought the conversation to a close before it disintegrated any further. He turned to Han. "You going out?"

"Yeah. Sector seven. I tell you that in case I don't come back." He shook his head. "Kriffing cold."

"Kriff yourself, Solo," Wedge swore lightly. "You're the only one of us free to go-"

"Didn't sign my life away, did I?"

"- so why do you stick around?"

It was a question often asked, usually behind Han's back. Luke's face showed mild surprise that Wedge actually broached it to Han's face. It must be that Corellian machismo.

Usually Luke was in earshot of the question. Or it was posed directly to him, like he was a fountain of inner knowledge. Uttered causually or slyly; out of genuine interest or the calculation of odds. Sometimes it felt like a psychology seminar: someone with too much education spouting off about the instinctive motivations of humankind; other times it was just talk.

To be honest, though Luke was closest of the pilots to Han, he really didn't know. He'd have checked 'all of the above.' Answers he'd heard included Han stayed for Chewie, Han stayed for Luke, when Han said "kriffing cold" he really meant "I love the cold", Han hated the Empire, Han loved the Princess, or Han was hiding from Jabba the Hutt's numerous bounty hunters.

Leia was right: the Rogues were a bunch of gossips.

"What," Han was saying now, his face guiless and full of bullshit, "and not show off my outfit?"

"What are you talking about," Wes muttered. "We all got that." His gloved fingers waved over Han's parka and the leg coverings.

"Yeah, but you don't have this," and Han stuck his leg straight out, about a seventy degree angle to the floor.

He didn't even fling a hand out for balance. It reminded Luke of a bird they saw... somewhere; before Hoth he'd been so many places. A wading bird, with impossibly long legs. C-3PO, Luke's protocol droid- or Princess Leia's, depending on who was winning the argument- was along, and informed them their legs were covered with a hairy fuzz, and that periodically they had to dry them in the sunshine to kill the algae.

Luke had shrugged off the information as just more useless pratter by the droid, but here it was now, entertaining his brain, and now he had a lot of questions. What was the purpose of the fuzz? Why couldn't it stay wet? Did it pose a health hazard? And what was unique about the bird's physiological design that a leg jutting straight out was practical, or even comfortable?

Something always came back, was his developing philosophy, and he was training himself to be more observant and not dismissive of the merest piece of information that hit his senses.

For instance, a moment ago. Wes had not observed Han's approach as anything out of the ordinary, whereas to Luke it stuck out as uncommonly quick. And that was a question that needed answering.

Luke smiled. "You did something to your boots, didn't you? Let me guess," and suddenly he liked the freezing planet of Hoth.

Han scorned him. "Like me sticking my leg in the air don't tell you anything."

"It's not extra socks," Luke breezed on, "I got four pair on and I still can't feel my toes. Kriffing cold."

Janson peered at Han with suspicion. "Did you do something?"

Han shrugged elaborately. "Kid says I did."

"Then it must be so. You built in a warming unit?" Wedge guessed.

"Boosters!" Luke exclaimed, momentarily forgetting he was practicing to be a Jedi Knight and resorting to the imaginative youth he used to be. "Kriff, that would be funny. Like jet packs for your ankles." He laughed loudly.

Han was looking at him oddly. "I don't think so, kid."

Luke shifted his jaw sideways. True, a jet pack generally was not for indoor use.

"It'd melt the snow," Wes said, saving face for Luke. "Then the tunnels would collapse."

Luke glanced at Han's feet. "You put blades on 'em?" he guessed. "Or gliders?"

"Good guess," Han said. "Try again." His leg was still up in the air.

"Repulsors," Wes said, was still following Luke's train of thought of a jet pack. "They don't make 'em that tiny, though."

Han pointed at Wes. "That's not a bad thought, Janson."

Whatever it was that kept Han from signing on the dotted line to stay with the Alliance, there was no doubt he was part of Hoth. Luke's friendship with him had earned the smuggler honorary membership to the Rogues.

Once they'd managed to coax him into the cockpit of an X-Wing and the twelve Rogues wound up taking out fifteen Imperial fighters before their hyperspace coordinates kicked in- a glorious moment for Rogue Squadron, one they still talked about- but Han strolled away with a wave of his hand upon landing, calling "thanks for the good time," and he disappeared up the ramp of his freighter the Millennium Falcon.

That was the thing about Han. Why- why join the fight with your buddies- they were buddies, weren't they? drank together and played sabacc and all that- and then not finish?

Luke thought maybe he'd gone to hide shaking hands and steady them with a glass of whiskey. Han was a good fighter pilot. He'd trained with the Imps, and the reason Rogue Squadron scored so many kills was Han knew how the enemy would move.

Luke was still trying to guess. Han had obviously done something to his boots and was holding his leg up so they would look, but Luke still wanted to play. "Spreaders?"

One of the other pilots, Hobbie, had told him where he came from it snowed so much the humans wore a special shoe to prevent them from sinking into the snow. But Luke dismissed that before Han even shook his head. It snowed here, but what they walked on was ice, not soft snow.

Han put a hand on Luke's shoulder to keep his balance. His leg had started shaking. "Will you just look?"

Wedge and Wes bent from their waists. "Oh," Wes said. He took his glove off to touch a series of small metal tips.

Luke stopped him. "It's metal," he warned. He was terribly paranoid about the cold. "Where'd you get the spikes?" he asked Han.

"Do they work?" Wedge wanted to know.

"Let's race," Han challenged. He took his hand from Luke's shoulder and stamped his feet, letting his two legs regain their equilibrium. Little pieces of ice flew into the air.

Luke and Wedge weren't fool enough to race on ice and played referee. Luke waited until Wes and Han stood side by side and counted off a start. "Go!" he shouted.

Han and Wes took off on a run down the passage. Janson's legs windmilled in place a few rotations, and as soon as he got real traction, one foot slid from under him and he landed heavily on his stomach.

The Passage was a bit uneven, Luke observed. Wes actually slid forward on his belly.

"Maybe we should belly crawl to get around," Wedge suggested with a laugh.

Han was halfway down the Passage already but turned around, jogging back like he was on turf. "There's your funny prints," Luke told Wes. The spikes on the bottom of Han's boots left little holes on the ice.

Wes was on his feet, rubbing a bruised knee and brushing snow off his flight suit. "I need some of those," he told Han.

"Only thing they don't let you do is slide," Han said. "You go head over heels."

"Sorry I missed that," Luke said. He wasn't sure he'd want spikes in his boots. He often slid as a means of navigating the passages. It was less effort than walking.

"It wasn't pretty," Han said.

"So what did you do?" Wedge asked. "Put nails in your boots?"

Han nodded. "Cut the tips off, hammered in from the inside. That's the hard part. Labor's what's gonna cost you."

Luke started walking again to the control room. Han's new venture, he thought. "Doesn't it leak?" he asked. "From the hole in the sole?"

"Hole in the sole," Wes sang out loudly.

"The nail's head is wider than the spike. But, I'm willing to concede it's a weakness," Han said. "I'll put a layer of caulk over it."

"How much?" Wes asked.

"I'll cut you a good deal. I got four boxes of nails, quantity five hundred. There's turn around time, though. Got to let the caulk dry. Figure you got two pair?"

"Yeah."

"So special orders only."

Luke had done the math. Han was a pilot, not a carpenter. "Why would a smuggler need all those nails?"

Han looked at him like any fighter pilot or moisture farmer should always have two thousand nails on hand. "Whatever needs doing."

"I'll come by later, place my order," Wes said. He entered the control room, an arm slung around Luke. "I'll have me some Hoth ice boots!"

"Great," Luke said without enthusiasm. "Just what we needed."

"We call 'em cleats," Wedge said. "Why don't we have them already? Why is a smuggler inventing footwear on an ice planet?"

Luke laughed, but it was a good question.

"Kriffing cold," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of a Christmas fic, but it got left behind. I still don't know that it has much purpose, but hope it was fun! :)


	28. Chapter 28

Even in sleep she reached for something.

Him?

The stars, more likely.

Her slender arm draped past her hip, the fingers curled over the edge of the cot.

Han kneeled, cupped his palm inches under hers, and it looked like he was the one who buoyed her hand.

An illusion, of the eye. A trick of the mind.

She reached. For cures, ends. For great things.

Would that she reached for him. To hold his hand, feel the roughness of his skin, and derive pleasure from it.

Han sneaked, he stole.

 _Reach_ , Princess, he thought. _You might just touch me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 words!


	29. Chapter 29

* * *

Obi Wan Kenobi gave a quick warning to the boy, and left him at the entrance to mingle in the throng of spacers. He didn't need Luke following him around like a nursing bantha calf.

"Good afternoon," Obi Wan approached the counter and greeted the bartender pleasantly, one of the few humans in the place. "You have a healthy crowd here today." Indeed the place was packed, dusty and dark. "Happy hour?" he inquired innocently.

"More like happy minute," the tender growled back. "What'll you have?"

Obi Wan named a cheap ale and asked to start a tab. The tender looked at him suspiciously; it was true Obi Wan's robes were shabby, but Obi Wan merely grinned at him and wiggled his fingers in a wave. “I have money," he lied.

Reluctantly, the man behind the bar grunted and opened a screen on tablet.

"I'm looking to get off-planet," Obi Wan said conversationally. "Anyone here who can help?"

The bartender wiped the counter from where a Devaronian had moved from his stool. "There's a few," he growled, not very forthcoming.

Obi Wan thanked him for being so helpful even though he wasn't, and turned his back on him to scan the crowd. It ought to be crowded, he thought. Most on Tatooine sought refuge from the twin suns in the afternoon, when the day's heat peaked. In a couple of hours, when the suns started their descent in the sky, the place would empty out. He brought his glass to his lips and toasted the planet silently. He was leaving finally, after nineteen years. He was surprised to learn he was a little sorry to go.

The cantina was a spacer's bar. Pilots, navigators, crew. Those with ships and some without. He would have to choose carefully.

Obi Wan wiped froth from his beard and dried his hand on his robe. He watched a human, a very gregarious one. He was dressed in a flight suit and buying drinks, celebrating some achievement. Not a good candidate for the trip; Obi Wan needed a fast ship, not a drunk pilot, but he seemed to be a regular and was greeting others by name.

Obi Wan checked on Luke. They youth was sitting at the bar, sipping a drink with shoulders hunched. Obi Wan felt badly for a moment. Luke needed a shoulder and an ear; he deserved an explanation as well, but hopefully there would be time for that later. He signaled to the bartender and ordered a better grade ale for the pilot. He handed it to him, saying, "Congratulations. There are not many who can boast so honestly."

"True, old man!" The pilot took the drink and held the glass high in thanks before draining it. "I beat Solo at his own game! 'Least, think I did. Hope to ask 'fore he takes off."

"Oh, he won't defend his honor, then?"

Another drink appeared in the pilot's hand. He guffawed. "He ain't got a credit to scrape together to fire up that bird of his."

Obi Wan hoped to hear more but someone clapped the pilot on the shoulder and Obi Wan was forgotten.

Still, the information about the pilot was interesting. He was leaving, yet he couldn't afford to. Well, then. Maybe Obi Wan could help him out. Again, his eyes drifted over the various life forms, wondering which this Solo happened to be.

Solo... Obi Wan could not assign a nationality to the name. Could be the Rodian. Their language used a lot of vowel sounds.

The Rodian sat by himself- herself?- it was hard to tell with Rodians, something about the blush of color around the ears; one sex had it and one didn't, and Obi Wan could never remember which was which. This one didn't have it.

The question of gender still undecided, Obi Wan took another reading of the being, and decided not to approach. He didn't need the Force to tell him the Rodian was preoccupied. His gaze was intent upon something but Obi Wan couldn't see past the huge Wookiee blocking his view, so he gave him up.

So much life, he thought. Mos Eisley was beginning to take on the character of a true port and less of an Outer Rim outpost.

In the past nineteen years, Obi Wan could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd visited Mos Eisley, and that was because he had given in to temptation. The Judland Wastes had a harsh and severe beauty he found surprisingly satisfying, but there were times, usually when digging out after a sandstorm, he found the role of hermit he'd taken on to be quite cruel. He missed the company of others. He missed being a part of the hum of the galaxy. So a few times he'd made the trip; he wanted to listen to the scraps of gossip he picked up from other tables and catch up on the news issuing from the holoset.

Not much had changed since he left. Palpatine was still in power, though whispers of a rebellion had grown loud enough to become talk. Rumors of Darth Vader had shifted over the years as well. Obi Wan's ears always perked up at the mention of Darth Vader. Nineteen years ago Palpatine appointed him with the task of hunting down escaped Jedi. It sounded so important, like it was the one thing to ensure the Emperor's safety.

Well, Obi Wan lifted one brow and darted his eyes to Luke. Maybe there was some truth in that.

The news always boasted when a Jedi was "brought to justice", as Palpatine termed it, and at first there was a lot of interest in the story. Now one didn't hear of it as much. It was widely believed Vader hadn't managed to catch them all. Naturally, since Obi Wan counted among the number of uncaught, the rumor appealed to him very much. He even did his part to help spread it. But it wasn't good for Vader's reputation.

He had one nevertheless. Vader sparked fear just in his appearance- face concealed behind a full helmet, extremely tall, legs stomping with menace. But the true fear generated from his behavior. There was something desperate and angry about Vader; he was- again, rumors swirled- what was he, man or machine- he was barely in control of his own impulses and innocent lives got swept up in them.

Obi Wan knew that better than anyone.

He drained his ale and scanned the room again, daring to use the Force- just a little, just enough to separate the hard-working spacers from the thieves. Either he was very much out of practice or there were a lot of thieves here.

Luke was still holding his own; that was good. Someone appeared to be trying to start a conversation with him, but the boy's Force sense- untapped as yet, but strong enough that Obi Wan accessed it easily- screamed _leave me alone._ Obi Wan was wondering if perhaps he should collect the boy from the stool when something jabbed into his shoulder five times.

It felt like a metal rod. Stiff and strong.

Obi Wan rolled his shoulder and put on a doddering expression. He turned around. "May I help you?"

It was the Wookiee, the thick finger held upside down ready to jab again. He peeled his lips back and hooted at Obi Wan.

And Obi Wan hummed, his senses leaping back into galaxy at large. He- this one was male; Obi Wan at one time knew a lot about Wookiees- was not old but his eyes contained hundreds of years of experience. There was strength, not just in the huge body but in his spirit as well, a patience and a terrible sadness.

The Wookiee cocked his head and repeated his hooting. His eyes, very blue against the dark russet of his fur, twinkled at Obi Wan.

"I look out of place?" Obi Wan repeated the Wookiee's observation to be sure he heard correctly. It had been a long time since he heard the language.

The Wookiee's head bobbed side to side and he hooted some more. A very long answer for 'yes', but that's what Obi Wan understood.

"It depends on the place," Obi Wan smiled.

The Wookiee was delighted. He signaled to the tender and ordered a drink, which he handed to Obi Wan.

Obi Wan sipped. Brandy. He lifted his brows. "I thank you, my friend."

"Chewie!" a voice snapped. A human male's voice, Obi Wan identified. A rich baritone. Experience laced it, too.

The Wookiee turned his head toward the voice.

"Quit buying drinks," the man snarled.

The Wookiee turned back to Obi Wan, smiling broadly.

"Chewie?" Obi Wan questioned, and the Wookiee answered. "Ah, Chewbacca. Yes, that sounds more like a proper name."

The Wookiee returned to their topic of conversation. _This does not look your place. If you don't mind my saying so._

Obi Wan answered slowly, allowing the Force to grant him context. "I don't mind at all. And in a way, you are correct. Tatooine has been my place. But today I seek to leave it, and that is why I am here."

 _You should seek that cub over there._ Chewbacca pointed with his eyes to Luke, who was trying to move his stool away from two arguing colleagues, but the stool was bolted to the floor. _He is more out of place than you._

“I know," Obi Wan agreed. “It is my fault he is here. But are we the only ones? Permit me to say, Chewbacca, even with all the life forms I see here, it seems to me you also are out of place?"

A Wookiee in a cantina...

They were aboreal beings. The way of life by human standards was somewhat primitive. Falsely so, no doubt, but that was another of Emperor Palpatine's programs. Wookiees were plundered from their world. If one encountered a Wookie it was most likely a slave.

 _I'm very at home in a cantina,_ the Wookiee answered. _Did I not select an excellent brandy?_

"Most certainly," Obi Wan bowed his head graciously. "You do know your liquor."

_And I play a mean hand of sabacc._

"You have certainly a wide range of experience," Obi Wan said with a smile.

 _Ah, you are cheeky._ Chewbacca crooked a clawed finger at the tender. _My kind of human._

"Am I?"

_Have another, on me._

"Don't think I didn't see you," the rich baritone voice warned.

"Is that another of your humans?" Obi Wan asked.

_He is the human._

"Oh, the human," Obi Wan was intrigued. "And what does that mean, if you don't mind my asking?"

_The reason there is a Wookiee in a cantina._

"Are you a mind reader?" Obi Wan was a bit astonished. "For I had that exact same thought a moment ago."

Chewbacca chortled. _You wouldn't be the first._

"No, I suppose not. And he lets you spend his money?"

The Wookiee made a guileless expression and leaned backwards in complete innocence. _What money? I put it on your tab. I heard you say you had money._

“If I am a cheeky human, then certainly you are some kind of Wookiee. I'll start with mischievous."

Chewbacca was modestly proud.

"But you are letting him think it is his money... I see," Obi Wan's eyes gleamed. "I have a confession, Chewbacca. I have no money."

_A lying human._

"One who tells the truth to you. I hope you don't think any less of me."

_Not possible. You really are seeking to leave this place, then._

"I am." Obi Wan waved his hand. "It is no matter; I will find a way."

_Where do you wish to go?_

"That is a good question. I am not sure. But I have need to get to Alderaan."

The Wookiee gazed at him a long time. Finally, serious for the first time, he said, _Needs over wishes. I know that, too._

"I expect you do."

_Do you know why else a Wookiee would be in a cantina?_

Obi Wan shook his head and his eyes were wide. "No, I can't imagine."

The mischief had returned. _When he is first mate._

"Ah!" Obi Wan exclaimed excitedly. He was glad he had not made any assumptions about whether or not the Wookiee was a slave. When offended their temper was great. "Your human has a ship, then?"

_We have stopped lying?_

"Oh, yes. That game is long past."

_He has a ship. And too much pride, and too little money._

_"_ You're saying he will charge me too much."

_He'll mean for you to pay._

"Of course."

_A hard-luck story automatically gets a ten percent surcharge._

“My.” Obi Wan pretended to be impressed. "I will avoid any details. I thank you for the advance warning."

The Wookiee's teeth bared again. _He is the human. But he doesn't like to get involved, and blames the job._

“I would call that customer service."

 _Ha,_ Chewbacca burst out in laughter. _His is good, but it doesn't come free._

"I am very curious about this human. Which is he?"

 _That one._ The Wookiee used his great head to point to a boothed table against the far wall. _Solo._

Ah, Obi Wan thought to himself. So that was him. A Corellian name, it seemed. A young man, close to the age Obi Wan was when he stepped outside the Force, sat by himself. Elbows on the table, fingers around a glass.

He was exactly as Chewbacca described. Proud and... not poor, exactly; in need was a better way to describe it. And preoccupied, but in a different manner than the Rodian. That had been because of a dominating task; this young man just seemed to have things on his mind. 

He was the human who made it possible for a Wookiee to be in a cantina. A working Wookiee, Obi Wan remembered. First mate. Most unusual.

Of Obi Wan's earlier assessment of the room, he wasn’t... no, there it was, a tiny flicker of thief. A work ethic as well, though. Hmm. Perhaps he thieved from himself. 

Obi Wan found that amusing and he smiled. _Doesn't like to get involved._ He pictured the young man dragged into a situation against his better judgement, hollering, “stop, thief!" while everyone looked around and he was chasing himself.

Obi Wan shook himself. Two glasses of brandy added up quickly. And the ale. He was being silly.

And he was a good-looking human. Did it only stand out in this place, filled with smells and elements that were not human, or was it because Obi Wan had been so lonely all these years? 

He glanced back at Luke, who also could be considered a good-looking youth. Clean cut. Chewbacca's captain was not clean cut. Far from it. In fact, the preoccupation and element of danger surrounding him caused the young man to stick out, for he had a table all to himself when so many others were relegated to standing in the crowded cantina. No one was invited to sit.

How would he get a charter, then, with that attitude?

Obi Wan looked at Chewbacca. “I need to leave as soon as possible. Is there business which will keep him here?"

The Wookiee's Force sense fogged with worry. _It is business which I fear will have us leave in a hurry._

”Are you sure you are only first mate?” Obi Wan asked slyly. 

Chewbacca chuckled deep in his throat. _Call me customer service._

Obi Wan laughed. The brandy was talking again. He liked this Wookiee very much. And he liked Luke, and wanted to help him, badly. And the galaxy. And he thought he might even like this young-old, honest-crook man scowling at the room and telling it to leave him alone even though he needed help. 

Obi Wan sighed. We all need help, he thought. 

Obi Wan remembered Luke, who wanted to sit by himself and in the crowd found he couldn’t. Funny how Obi Wan couldn't even really tell apart his own species. Either the being standing aggressively over Luke was humanoid or a human that lived his life so differently than other humans that it altered his appearance.

“One moment, Chewbacca. I want to see how the boy takes to your captain. Let me collect him."

 _Of course,_ Chewbacca said, and glanced at Luke. He chortled again. _It should be fun._

“Yes,” Obi Wan smiled in agreement. “I expect it will be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone read Tales from Mos Eisley Cantina? It is a book of short stories about all the customers we see in the classic scene out of ANH. The pilot mentioned here claimed he had beaten Han's “par sec" record but he never got to ask Han about it.  
> Thank you for reading and all the fun interaction!


	30. Chapter 30

Outside the window of her apartment, speeder traffic flowed in a steady stream, several lanes above and below. No one could see in. The morning rush hour was done. Now, Leia imagined shoppers, errands, leisure.

Many levels down, a crowd of beings was respectfully observing rope barriers that kept them from blocking entrance to her building.

The natural lighting of the bright sunshine didn't match her mood, and she adjusted the window filter until the sitting room was bathed in a golden glow.

The apartment was quiet, except for the quiet murmur of a holoset and the ticking of the mantle chrono. She had seen that the apartment comm unit was turned off, but there hadn't been any calls to her personal comm either. Not since Han woke her up with the news; he was in the Adalvanta Sector, half a day ahead. He'd been gone for a week.

Despite the serenity of her surroundings she felt caged.

The silence could be read a certain way, and Leia wondered if it was that easy to abandon someone.

Luke wouldn't. He couldn't, and they had reached out a number of times through the Force to each other, but he had since grown quiet. Was he asleep? How could he sleep?

Leia had always thought it would come from her. Or Luke. He had the right too, but he hadn't seemed to care, really. She understood he left it to her.

She meant it to come from her. It was always at the back of her mind. She knew it had to come, but the timing never seemed right. Things were always good and she didn't want to ruin them.

Things were good, she heard herself say, glancing at the ticking mantle chrono, surrounded on either side by holos of Leia, Luke, Chewie, and Han.

Or things were bad and she didn't want to make them worse. But, now she thought about it, the bad things were caused by someone else, and surmountable.

Well, it was out now.

Her door chimed, and she heard C-3PO's metal feet shuffle across the tile floor to answer.

"Remember, 3PO, I'm busy," she called out to remind him. It felt odd to lie, odder to not be busy. Mon had told her not to come to the office. Leia had dressed for it anyway. She wore a high collared, palest pink blouse with jade stone buttons and a dark green fitted skirt, slitted to the knee, veins of turquoise marbling it. Her feet were still bare.

"Yes, Mistress Leia." His steps were silenced as they met the thick rug.

She had complained to Mon, "I don't wish to appear to fall prey to the hype. Or are you worried?"

"Of course I'm worried," Mon had answered tartly. "But not for the reasons you think. It's a madhouse here already, Leia. We'll talk later."

Control had been wrested from her, and she was agitated. Busy fretting, as Han had guessed over the comm.

She heard the door open, a murmuring voice, C-3PO exclaiming something.

Leia shook her head and looked down. He was going to admit the visitor. Grant entrance, when she specifically had-

"Is that any way to think of your brother?"

Leia turned, a half-smile already on her face. She left the window for Luke and gave him a hug. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

"We were Force-comming enough; figured it'd be better to be here. How are you holding up?"

He didn't have a bag, but he didn't need one. She and Han were always ready for Luke to visit. There was a room with a private 'fresher, and clothes in a bureau, and personal care items on the counter.

Leia looked to the window again. From this far she could only see straight out, but she remembered the crowd down below. "How did you get by all the holohounds? I didn't sense they were excited."

Luke waved it away. "Eh, they never recognize me."

Leia smiled fondly. His hair was much darker now than the publicity stills showed from after the Battle of Yavin. Gods, it came back to her all of a sudden. How young he was back then. She, too.

"Mysterious Jedi Master Skywalker," she said.

But he probably did something with the Force to cloud their recognition.

"That's me," he said cheerfully, and she smiled again, for underneath everything: the years, the anguish, the life, he had never really changed.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"I would," he answered, and walked to the window and stretched in front of the speeder traffic. "I don't know why, but space travel is so dehydrating."

Leia was looking in the cooler unit. She felt like a bad hostess. Not that she knew she'd be entertaining, but there wasn't even very much for her in there, and she lived here.

"I've got... wine? Water?"

"Water's good."

"I haven't been out," she explained to Luke in apology. "I'll call an order later for delivery."

"That's fine. I don't expect anything else from my sister." His grin was proud.

She arched a sardonic brow at him. "What, that I subsist on wine?"

"You're the mysterious Leia Organa Solo. You don't need fuel like the rest of us."

"Stop," she frowned at him. "I'm not mysterious." She handed him a glass and he drank several long gulps. He _was_ thirsty.

When he had slaked his thirst, he asked, "Remember my first Force-comm?"

At the moment, Leia wasn't sure she was happy he was here. What was the point in talking about that? All it did was serve to remind her of the crowd downstairs, the commentary from the holoset. She didn't want a Jedi Master, she wanted her brother.

"Yes," she answered sullenly. "It was a call for help."

He nodded, eyes glazed in memory. " _Leia, hear me_. And you did."

"What made you think to do that anyway?"

She had never asked. She hadn't wanted to know. Oh, she suspected, but she didn't know why those suspicions sneaked in. They shouldn't have; they frightened her, and they didn't make sense.

Until they did.

He was grinning at her. "The thoughts of a desperate man."

"Because... you didn't know then, did you?"

"No." His laugh was a little bitter. "I knew- gods, I knew so little. The only thing I knew for certain was that I had heard Han before. I hoped maybe I could get you to hear me."

Leia nodded and moved to the sitting room. She wanted to compose her face. She didn't like remembering those times.

The conform chairs faced the window, and were angled to one another. Luke set his glass on a marble coaster on the table between them. He wiggled his body deep into the seat and sighed happily, leaning his head back with his eyes closed, and Leia waited patiently. When he opened them, his eyes glanced at the murmuring holoset.

"The other thing I knew," he said, turning his face so his blue eyes were directed at her, "was a truth that came from the one I thought was my enemy."

"Of course we know now it was the truth," she lifted her hand delicately from her lap, "but you didn't believe it then, did you?"

"Oh, I did," Luke was looking at nothing, just out the window. "That's why I didn't tell you then. I knew you wouldn't believe it."

His eyes returned to her. "Did you ever have something just settle in you, immediately, and you knew it was a truth."

"Twice," Leia answered, looking at her lap.

"You did?" He sounded surprised, both at her ready answer, and the number.

"When you said I was your sister-"

"Yeah, I loved your answer. I didn't know how you were going to take it."

"- and-"

"Han? When you told him you loved him?"

Leia shook her head. "I had to tell myself first before I told him. It was just like you said. All those feelings I had about him: good, and so many bad-"

Luke chuckled.

"- one label. Love. And it settled, yes, all over me. Like... like warmth."

"Oh, I didn't get that feeling. Mine settled as truth alright, but it was horror. The Jedi must have had a saying when the Temple was around. 'Search your feelings.' Ben said it to me once. Vader did then. I tell my students to let the truth settle."

Luke's small talk always had a point now, but Leia didn't feel like discovering it by herself.

"Is that what you came to tell me?" she asked. "'Been there, done that'?"

"Not quite." Luke wiped a bead of moisture from the outside of his glass and stared at it on the tip of his finger. "Just to show you I came through."

Leia nodded at her lap. "This truth is settled; at least I accept it. But I don't like it."

"It seems to have settled within the media," Luke commented.

"Yes."

"We just have to figure out what exactly that means. To us. How do you feel about it?"

"It's multi-layered, isn't it," Leia answered. "How I feel about the truth, and how I feel about them knowing the truth. I'm angry."

Luke nodded. "That's understandable. The thing about the truth is, not everyone needs it. And this was yours."

"Ours. You're right, what you say about truth. I can't see how this one benefits anyone."

"Clears up history, I suppose."

Leia's hands made fists in her lap. "I don't understand how it came out. The whole galaxy- well, it is now; but back then no one else knew."

"You're the first person I told. And that was years ago."

"A _researcher,_ Luke," Leia groaned, and she lowered her head to her hands.

"I know. It was handled wrong. He should have come to us with it, instead of publishing it in a journal of historical artifacts or whatever it was."

"We are not artifacts, Luke. An artifact is something made by hand."

"We were made, anyway." He looked at her to see if she saw any humor at all. "No?"

"No." Leia shook her head.

"Oh, come on," Luke encouraged. "You've weathered so many things, Leia."

"I'm out of practice."

"Yeah, there's that. Peace does that to you, I guess." Luke grabbed his glass and lifted himself off the chair. "Think I'm ready for that wine now. You?"

"It's late morning!"

He laughed lightly. "I'm still on night-before time. Will you be making an appearance today?"

"No," Leia sighed.

"Then what the hell. When's Han coming in?"

"He said he'd leave today. As soon as he could get away."

"Then he'll come home and find us both drunk. Just like old times, right?"

He finally won a laugh from Leia.

When he returned to the sitting room he lifted his glass and touched hers. "To us."

"To us," Leia repeated and drank.

Luke swirled his wine glass. "Skywalkers," he said quietly, looking at the circling liquid.

"Luke," Leia breathed.

"The other part of what I told you, after you being my sister- was it a truth for you?"

Leia took a breath. "No, I don't think so. I felt..."

"Disgust," Luke interrupted.

"No-"

"Yeah, your face. You don't have to be polite."

He made her smile again. "Maybe. Or that horror that you felt. I didn't _want_ it to be true."

"But it had to be, because you wanted me to be your brother."

"Yes."

"That's always been your conflict."

"I suppose."

They were quiet for a time. Their gazes were on the holoset. A human and a Duran were talking, and in the righthand corner, pictures flashed. Leia, Luke, Darth Vader, a man. With the volume low the man was anyone. Wavy, dark hair. Scarred. His eyes were arrogant.

"I have some crackers," Leia remembered, and she got up. When she returned with two sleeves of crackers arranged on a plate in a spiral, which was a memory from Alderaan, Luke had refilled their glasses.

"Have you talked to the researcher?" Luke asked.

"No. Why?"

"I dunno. Maybe ask for an explanation."

"How would that help?"

"I guess it wouldn't."

"Most certainly not," Leia snapped.

"I wonder what else he found out," Luke mused.

"I'll buy you the journal when it's in print," Leia said dryly.

"I'd like to read it," Luke said honestly. "And talk to him. Maybe there's other things. And maybe there's something, another bone, to throw at them," his chin lifted to indicate the holorhound crowd waiting one hundred and two stories below.

Leia arched a brow. "A lost triplet?"

Luke laughed. When he was through- he found it quite funny- he munched a cracker and sipped wine. "Han come up with a distraction yet?"

Leia was about to sip but lowered the glass before wine entered her mouth as she laughed. "Han?"

"Yeah. It's how he operates."

"Han _is_ a distraction; he doesn't come up with them."

Luke chuckled. "True." He pretended to glance at his wrist chrono. "He should be arriving at the researcher's office any minute."

Leia laughed lightly.

"You're assuming the researcher is pro-Empire?" Luke asked.

"Aren't you?"

Luke shrugged and took another cracker. "I don't know. The Empire's been gone a few years now."

"For some reason there are those who'd like to see it return. That makes me angry, too."

"Yeah. But that's why you're a Senator. You work so it doesn't." Luke took a sip, thoughts back on the researcher. "He might be. He might want to damage our reputations."

"That's how Mon feels."

"Yeah? Or maybe he really is an archivist. That's what it's called; not artifact; I knew I'd come up with it. But maybe he's a true historian and he just found out something mind-blowing- which it is, apparently, judging by the reaction- and behaved like an anarchist, and submitted it for publication to get renown in his field."

Leia was skeptical. "He's in this for himself?"

"He might be. Maybe he had no idea what something twenty-eight years old would mean to descendants, 'cause, you know, his head is in the past."

Leia took a cracker. "You're always generous and always seeing the upside of things."

"It's not a bad thing, Leia." He looked at her as if wounded, eyes drooping from wine.

"It's not," she reached over to pat his wrist. "I'm just shrewd. But you know... you've made it clearer for me. It's politics. Isn't it. I can say whatever, yea or nay, because it isn't really the truth they want; it's information and how to use it to serve their purposes."

Leia sipped wine and gazed at the mantle, memories and thoughts in her eyes. "I don't think there'll be much permanent damage. They'll always question it, use it to try and sway voters against me. It'll always be a bad taste, but I'll overcome. And even if I don't..." she fluttered a hand. "It's politics. But for you... what about your students? Your academy?"

"What about it?"

"Luke," Leia said impatiently. "He wasn't just a Jedi. He was one of the greatest, and then- to... to succumb to the dark side, and become the worst-"

Luke was serious. "I know."

"You may not have students when you get back. Their parents might pull them out, thinking they need to keep them safe-"

"They won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because. I didn't just up and leave, you know. I told them."

Leia's eyes widened and she leaned forward. "You _told_ them?"

"I did."

Leia reached for her wine, seeking to quell a sudden nervousness. "You are not a politician, Luke."

Luke had wine tucked in his cheek. He swallowed. "Nope, never was. See, I think we're safe. That reputation stuff; that's just enemies trying to score a hit. I told them I only met him shortly before he died. That he never had a hand in raising me. But most importantly, I told them exactly what you just said: he went to the dark side."

"I said succumb."

"There's a difference between character and nature," Luke said serenely. "His nature wasn't evil. If you look at his history and his accomplishments, I think he started out truly wanting to make a difference. But his character was seriously flawed. He knew what he was doing, and he did it anyway."

"Hm," Leia said.

"It's true," Luke insisted. "Let the truth settle."

"Search my feelings?"

"Whichever."

Leia was quiet for a time. "Why do you think he did that?" She shuddered all of a sudden. "What do you think happened?"

Luke shook his head faintly, brows up. "I don't know. I can't justify it. There's nothing I can imagine, for me, that would make what he did a solution, you know?"

Leia shuddered again and gulped wine. She needed it to warm her from within.

"I can only theorize," Luke continued. "I think it must have had something to do with the Emperor. The Emperor was always on about having..." his brow crinkled as the memory had faded.

"An artifact?" Leia joked.

"No," Luke laughed. "A partner. But less. Not an equal. Apprentice, that's it. Vader called him Master."

"To want all that power the dark side would grant, but to call someone Master?"

Luke nodded. "Which means there's no power."

"Gods," Leia said. Realization and relief coursed through her body with the wine. "The failure of Darth Vader is settling like a truth in me."

"Good," Luke laughed. "That's what this mind-blowing piece of information ought to be for the galaxy. Instead they're lapping up the fact he had children like it's something important."

"Well, the children have risen to some prominence."

"We always were," Luke argued. "Even me, as a moisture farmer. I didn't know it at the time, so I wasn't."

Leia's thoughts were jumping. The wine, she knew. She was thinking about her childhood, and Luke. "I don't want this to detract from my parents."

"Of course," Luke said. "And what about our mother? I haven't heard everything yet, but have they mentioned with whom he had children?"

"No."

"See. She's lost to history. That's not fair."

"Hire the researcher," Leia said half-seriously, and changed the subject. "So if you've admitted it, then I will have to as well."

"Of course," Luke said. "Or you could deny that I told them anything. We could make it really messy. They'll go along. But you should. It's your truth. You were going to, weren't you?"

Leia nodded. "I was. Just wanted to go about it the right way."

"Careful and slow? Shrewd?" Luke smiled and refilled their glasses. "They're so focused on Vader right now they're barely focusing on who you and I are. And when they do, they'll see."

"Twins," Leia said. "Separated at birth by people who knew we would need protection from him."

Luke frowned. "What makes me angry is that those people, and I'm sorry Lei, but your father is one, weren't so much protecting two innocent babies as they were preventing the spread of the dark side of the Force."

"By my estimation," Leia had a different viewpoint, "my father did protect me. But he was a politician too." She raised her glass. "To politics."

Luke raised his. "To the Force. It can't be used in politics."

Leia sighed. "But that's what's happening." They were back to the beginning.

"I'll do a holoprogram with you if you think it'll help blow things over," Luke offered. "I'll even show them by prosthetic hand." He raised his gloved hand that held the wine glass.

"The Force has made you funny," Leia said.

"I wasn't before?"

"No, but now you are." She got up and opened her arms for a hug. "Are you hungry? I'll order something."

"I'm tipsy." Luke drained his glass and poured another. "That's funny, right?"

"Hilarious."

"Hey, I know. Let's watch the news. Every time we hear the name Skywalker we have to take a drink."

"You're on. And throw a cracker. I'll be right back; I want to get out of these clothes."

* * *

Outside, the sun's light was no longer harsh. The crowd below had grown. When the second rush hour grew heavy, Luke stood at the window and waved at stopped speeders, who couldn't see him. The sitting room was subdued in its own lighting, but easy noise came from the two, later sitting on the floor and drinking wine, backs against a sofa. C-3PO had been called in twice to vacuum cracker crumbs. A box of cereal lay tipped over on its side between them. Leia had forgotten to call for food and instead had comm'd Han to pick up something when he landed.

Leia was using the 'fresher when she heard Luke call her.

"Hey, Leia."

"Just a minute."

"Han's home."

"He is?" She rushed washing her hands and smiled into the reflector.

"Come look."

When Leia returned to the sitting room, Luke was standing, holding dry cereal in the palm of his hand. He pointed at the holoset. "Look."

Han, evidently, was at the building entrance. The holocameras showed him irritated and scowling.

"The news is telling me my husband is home," Leia announced with a giggle.

"No, I told you."

"And you learned it from the news."

Luke tossed cereal at the holoset. "So I did." He leaned forward, peering. "Is he carrying anything?"

"Gods," Leia admitted lustily, "I'm so glad he's back."

"He forgot food." Luke spoke to the holoset. "Louder," he commanded.

The volume remained at its current setting. "You have it on voice recognition? How do you louder it?"

Leia tsked. "Louder," she told the holoset.

They heard shouts from the reporters, "General Solo, General Solo!" but that's all they could make out. Han was trying to shoulder his way through the pressing crowd. Leia's heart swelled. He looked fantastic, dark and irritable and handsome.

A beautiful distraction.

"Huh?" Luke said.

"Oh, sorry," Leia didn't realize she had said that out loud, or maybe thought it loudly with the Force.

"-bombshell revelation?" was the tail end of a question.

On the holoset, they say Han stop. "You know," he spoke slowly, "I've always known there's stupid beings in the galaxy." He waited a couple of beats, still trying to move forward. "Just didn't know how many. And you're all stupid. Go home."

The building security manager apparently was there to help, for suddenly, Han breezed away.

"He's in," Luke celebrated.

When Han stepped into the foyer of his home, pushing C-3PO away from helping with his coat, he blinked at Luke and Leia grinning stupidly at him from the sitting room, the holoset blaring and two pieces of cereal in his wife's hair.

A slow smile spread on his face. "Kriff," he cursed lightly at them, "Didn't I tell you two years ago?"


	31. Chapter 31

What was Luke doing wrong?

He could swear- _swear_ \- Ben was-

But it sounded crazy, crazier now, now that-

Where had he gone?

Ben had spoken... from the Force. In Luke's head, anyway. But he wasn't going to tell anyone that.

Even then Luke wasn't really sure. If it was instinct- of course his mind is going to tell him to flee. Would it though, in Ben's voice?

There was celebration, too. _The Force will be with you, always._

Maybe.

Was it real? Or was it like Han said, the mystical ramblings of a man whose eyes gleamed with fevered belief?

Was Luke Force-sensitive, or was he a convert?

_Use the Force, Luke._

Well, sure. Who was afraid of death when you could just come back?

Did Ben mean get shot down? Die, instead of aim without seeing, so Ben could pull him from the Force and together they'd fight Darth Vader?

What were they going to do, haunt him? Drive him mad, with their disembodied voices in his head?

Ben had given Luke his father's lightsaber and the strange technique of closing his eyes to see. That had worked, twice. Now Luke kept bumping into things.

The Jedi's weapon was the lightsaber. A very intimate way of fighting, as Han had pointed out rather tactlessly. A physical weapon.

Luke imagined a Jedi had a relationship with his lightsaber, on a different level than Han had with his blaster. Oh, Han liked his blaster all right, but it was a tool he selected that emphasized his abilities. He didn't sleep with it.

Maybe he did. But under his pillow where it provided ready access in case someone came in.

Luke kept his lightsaber with him at all times. He cleaned it, took it apart and put it back together. He tried to put across to Leia just what it meant to him and felt he was failing. It wasn't a tool so much as an extension of himself, he told her. An assistant, a colleague, maybe even another limb, if a human could imagine having three arms.

From the look on Leia's face, he could see the idea of having three arms did not appeal to her.

Luke tried fighting the remote trainer with the blast shield covering his face as he had the very first time he felt the Force, but he got zapped.

He tried waving his hand and arranging the tauntauns in a row just like Ben had convinced the stormtrooper the droids sitting in the back of the landspeeder weren't the ones sought by the Empire, but the animals ignored him.

He put himself in life and death situations, just to hear that voice again, telling him how to escape.

There was silence. Unless he counted Han's frustrated cursing, yelling at him for having a death wish.

It wasn't a death wish. Luke wanted to open his mouth and confess, _It's a Ben wish, Han._

Why couldn't he hear Ben anymore?

He had to do something. It was building up in him: frustration, failure. Not the Force, unfortunately.

If he couldn't come back, if the Force couldn't protect him from death, then... Darth Vader was going to kill him, like he had killed Ben.

Sometimes Luke had to look at Han and Leia to be sure he hadn't dreamed it. Ben's instruction, was so quick, so... _quiet_ compared to the noise Darth Vader made when he breathed.

He missed Ben. Missed what Ben meant. He was kind and wise, and... weird, really, when Luke thought about home and the reputation Ben had.

Weirder, now, that Luke realized Ben knew who Luke was the whole time and never said a word.

And his sympathy for the older man would dissolve into anger. Luke could be so much by now!

There must have been a reason. Luke had to console himself with the reminder that he wasn't the center of the galaxy.

It sure felt like Darth Vader was, though.

* * *

"How come you don't have the Force?" he asked Han once. It wasn't the best time to ask questions. They were being chased by enemy ships, but Luke's tongue was always loosened when he was excited.

Han banked his ship steeply on its side. Luke's hip bumped into the arm of a chair but he saw that the bolts from the Tie fighters passed by harmlessly.

Chewie, the Wookiee copilot, gave a grunt of approval. Luke didn't know how long the two had been partners, but it seemed like maybe it had been a while. They made a good team.

"You could, you know," Luke said. "Your piloting is very... instinctive."

"I don't want it," Han said calmly, rolling the ship back the other way and firing the belly cannons.

"Something's failing," Leia warned. An indicator light was flashing red.

"It's the shielding," Han said. "Don't worry. Just get us some coordinates to jump to."

"It's a crowded system," Leia answered coolly, but her eyes watched the flashing light. "It's taking a while to calculate a safe route."

Luke gripped the copilot's seat so he wouldn't fall. "But how do you know you don't?" he said to Han. "I don't think you can just refuse it."

"Luke, sit down," Leia ordered, tugging on his shirt. She was in the navigator's seat.

"Try it," Han said.

Luke sat on the floor because Leia had the only other seat. He wrapped his legs around the trunk of the navigator's seat to keep himself in place. It was stupid; he really should go back to the lounge and strap in. He'd offered to man the guns but Han said it wasn't necessary and he was jealous that Leia got to be up front with the others.

"Try what?"

"Refuse it."

Luke almost laughed. "No," he said.

Chewie made a growling noise but except for a quick cock of his head, Han ignored him.

"What'd he say?" Luke asked Han.

"Nothing. Just cursing the Imps."

"Oh."

"There was a test," Leia said. Like Han, her focus was out the cockpit, her lips pressed into a thin line from the tension, but she was able to follow the conversation like it was one of the gauges blinking on the nav'puter. "Back when the Order still existed, they tested young beings. They had a sort of traveling admissions department."

"How very bureaucratic," Han said. "Chewie, angle the shields at thirty. D'ja get a test?" he asked Luke. He even turned around to look at Luke, and the ship dipped. Luke saw Leia's knuckles turn white.

"No. Ben told me."

"That's certain, then," Han said drolly.

"Don't make him doubt himself," Leia chided Han. "It's hard enough on his own like this-"

"Why would he lie?" Luke wanted to know.

"How we coming on those coordinates?" Han said.

"Almost set," Leia answered.

"I don't doubt myself," Luke said. "At all."

Chewie said something again, and Han glanced sharply at him this time. "Just full of secrets, aren't you."

"What?" Luke wanted to know.

"Said he had the test."

"Really?"

"He's probably lying'."

Chewie answered angrily, waving his arm at Han.

"Hold at thirty!" Han snapped.

"He's not lying," Luke said.

"Ready!" Leia said.

"Hit it, Chewie, and stop complaining."

Looking outside, it looked like time froze, but then the stars stretched and blurred, and Luke felt like his whole insides shifted to the left side of his body. Leia let her arms hang limply over the arms of the seat as the ship safely entered hyperspace.

"Instinct is born of desperation," she proclaimed of Han's flying.

"My piloting is inspired," Han corrected. He had unstrapped and was going to see what new damage the ship had incurred. Luke followed him.

Leia followed, too. "You're no artist, Captain."

"Is Chewie Force-sensitive?" Luke asked.

"No," Han said. "You're not, are ya, pal? We're gonna have to replace the coil." He nodded at Leia confidently. "I have my moments."

Chewie caught Luke's attention and spoke to him. Even without knowing exactly what the barks, growls and hoots meant, Luke understood Chewie was telling him he did not possess the ability to manipulate the Force.

"From back when the Jedi occupied the defense of Kasshyyk," Han explained.

"Was he very young?" Luke had no idea how old the Wookiee was, but everyone assumed he was at least a couple of centuries old.

"The defense was during the Clone Wars," Leia told Luke. "Not very long ago. Shortly before the purge."

"Why would he get tested?"

Han shrugged. "For fun."

Leia shook her head at him. "You're impossible."

Han winked at her and smiled.

"You just can't make up answers," Leia said.

"Sure I can."

"At that time," Leia explained to Luke, "there weren't enough Knights to fight. The Jedi were stretched terribly thin."

"Yeah, that admissions department must have been terribly busy."

Leia made a disappointed face at Han, but she kept talking to Luke. "They weren't exactly recruiting, but they made a push to identify more Force-sensitive."

Luke nodded. History didn't really interest him all that much. Usually he felt it was done; move on, but Chewie right now loomed before him. Living history.

Like Ben and Darth Vader. A tale of loss and regret, and then Ben died.

"How come you didn't know before, Han?"

"Know what?" Han had opened a maintenance hatch in the floor and had disappeared inside it.

"That Chewie was with the Jedi. That he got tested."

Han was unconcerned. "Chewie thinks he's got two hundred years to fill me in."

Luke looked at Chewie, who answered by widening his eyes and peeling his lips back. Luke smiled.

"He's heard most of my stories," Han talked while he worked.

Chewie growled something.

"What?" Luke said.

"Shut up." Han sounded good-natured. "Said I'm startin' to repeat myself."

Something was nudging Luke's mind. Was it the Force? It didn't have a voice, but it was telling him to pay attention.

"We all know you're full of hot air, Captain," Leia said, joining Chewie in teasing Han.

Luke thought maybe, in that weird way of Ben's, the old Jedi's spirit spoke softly through Chewie.

Han's head appeared when Leia spoke. "You oughta come and listen," he said to her. "Keep you warm on those cold Hoth nights," and he waggled his brows.

And if it spoke through Chewie, then it might- should, since it was the Force- speak through Leia, through Han-

They certainly had their own dialog, didn't they, Luke mused.

\- Maybe even the tauntauns who grumbled at him when he asked them to move.

He hadn't been listening. He thought he needed a master: Ben, if there was no one else.

Ben had died too soon. That much was true. He'd given Luke the lesson about closing his eyes to see. Obviously there wasn't enough time to tell Luke everything. Ben hadn't gotten the opportunity to tell Luke that one didn't have to listen to hear.

"You're telling me I've got to experience," Luke answered Ben through Chewie. "I've got to be patient."

Chewie said something. Luke looked at Han.

"He said he hasn't heard all your stories."

"No, I guess you haven't, Chewie."

Luke asked a lot of questions usually. Too many, perhaps. Han sometimes rolled his eyes at him. But he didn't say much about himself. He was brooding, he supposed. Or not interested in his own history.

"He says he's dying to hear about moisture farming," Han interpreted for Luke.

Leia laughed and even Han enjoyed the sarcasm. "Wait until I'm out with the tauntauns before you launch into that one."

It was about a week after their return to Echo Base- Luke stopped counting the days in an effort to be patient- he was able to call his lightsaber into his hand, and the Force sounded like his own voice in his head.


	32. Chapter 32

Han rapped on her cabin door.

Leia glanced at her chrono. He was exactly on time.

She'd been sitting on her bunk waiting because there wasn't much she needed to do to get ready; she didn't have any clothes to change into. All she could do was change her hairstyle. Han, evidently, had gotten creative.

He stood on the other side of the doorway. He had tended to his hair, too: combed it. He grinned stupidly at her and presented her with his creation.

It was made from electrical tape, strips of blue and black formed into loops, the sticky ends pressed together. At the center was a wad of tape he'd crumpled into a sphere.

He had fashioned a flower. "Made you a corsage," he mumbled.

The petals of his tape flower were several inches long. Leia tested the open parts and saw he had covered the adhesive with something so they lost their stickiness.

"How clever!" Leia said with a smile. She reached to take it from him. "It's lovely."

"No, it ain't." He was actually blushing. "Tacky as shit."

"It's not tacky." Leia showed how her finger didn't stick to the inside of the loop. "Not tacky at all. See?"

He enjoyed her joke a little bit. "Here, you put it on like this." He showed her the center of his flower's back, which had an extra piece of tape, sticky side out. "May I?" and he pressed it below her shoulder, into her shirt.

He stood back, hands out, expecting the heavy bunch of tape to fall, but it stuck to her shirt, which was actually Han's shirt.

"Look at that," Leia said. It dominated her chest and must look outrageous, but she enjoyed it. She waited for his next move; this was his idea, even though right now he looked like he either regretted it or was going to throw up.

But he extended his elbow. "Our chariot awaits," he said.

She took his elbow and they ambled together out into the corridor. It was too narrow to walk side by side, so she loosened her grip and fell behind a step, her hand still touching his sleeve.

Chewie was waiting for them in the lounge. He had a work rag folded over his forearm and bowed to them. He indicated Leia should slide into the bench.

She sat before one of the two plates on the table, each covered with a cloth. Two disposable cups were half-full with wine. A welding torch stood in a mug, pointing its small flame at Leia. It made a small roaring noise, and smelled of butane.

"Han, Chewie," she beamed. "This is-" It was the most ridiculous and endearing thing she'd perhaps ever seen.

Chewie held up a furry arm asking for her silence. Han was in the booth across from her. With an elegant flourish, Chewie whisked the rags off the plates to reveal ration bars still in their wrapper. The plate was garnished with little flakes of oats.

"Rags aren't the cleanest." Han had resorted to mumbling again.

"You and Chewie went to so much effort." Leia was impressed, she wouldn't deny it. And moved, really.

Chewie growled something at Han. It had only been a week, but the crash course in Shyriiwook immersion was taking effect. Leia understood Chewie told Han he'd be in the cockpit.

Both forgot Han had given up the role of captain for the night. "Right," he answered Chewie.

"Thank you, Chewie," Leia said.

She and Han were alone together in the lounge, the windy hiss of the soldering torch the only thing making noise.

They looked at each other. She felt young and wondered if she looked it. The shy embarrassment that covered his cheeks made him seem charmingly boyish.

"This is very nice," Leia said.

"Tryin'," he said, and his eyes left her face. "You said you liked nice."

"I do," she affirmed.

He nodded. "Aren't you hungry?"

She put her nose to the plate and sniffed. "It smells delicious," she joked.

One corner of his mouth showed a tiny smile. They set about unwrapping their ration bars. Leia usually finished one in six bites; she'd actually conducted the experiment three days ago, when she was fighting boredom. But this time she merely nibbled the corner. At this rate, she calculated, it might take twenty bites. Han also took a small bite.

"You seem a little nervous," she observed. She didn't want to tease, but she couldn't help it.

He waggled his brow once, showing he could take it. "Never dated a princess before."

"And I've never dated a smuggler."

"What about a scoundrel?"

She put on a serious air. "I think so. Ones with ulterior motives, unfortunately."

"What, to get you in bed?"

"Is that what this is?" she asked, brows up.

"No, no," Han hastened to say, dropping his ration bar, which hit the plate with a thunk. "No. We talked about that."

"We did," Leia agreed. "No, they were more interested in getting my crown."

"Oh. I wouldn't know about that," Han said.

Leia entwined her fingers and rested her chin on them. "Of course, once I realized that, all I had to do was put them in jail."

Had he witnessed this side of her? The sardonic Princess, tired of being treated as a title and a means of advancement. He had evidently, for he laughed, not at all nervously.

When had he gotten to know her, over the past three years, or the last week they spent cramped on a crippled ship?

She didn't know that out of his element he was almost shy. It was quite becoming on his usually guarded face and she was determined to make the most of it. "You must have dated a smuggler."

Han pursed his lips. "Mm," he thought. "No."

"No?" Leia waved a hand over the carefully set table. "You don't mix work with pleasure?"

"Well... let's just say I didn't date much."

"Oh." Leia sat back. "You knew about corsages."

He smiled and looked cute again. "It was a craft we did in school."

"They taught you how to date in school?" Leia purred.

"No," he was smiling. "When I was real young. It was to celebrate New Season. We made them out of stock flimsi and glue."

"What was New Season like?"

"It came after Dead Season."

"Dead Season," Leia laughed. "You Corellians are so descriptive."

"It's when everything dies!" Han explained. "And then when it grows again, it's New Season."

"You're such a pragmatic people."

He shrugged. "I don't know about that. But flowers symbolize New Season. The women wear a corsage when they go to Festival."

"I bet that was fun."

"I don't know about that either. I worked."

He might be nice, but his memories weren't. They flickered across his face like the shadows caused by the wavering flame of the soldering iron. In ten minutes she understood him more than she had in three years.

"I worked those, too," Leia offered. She only had one really awful memory, taken from her perspective of life, and she had to keep it because if she didn't it, then that meant she had to leave Han behind; Chewie and Luke too, and that negated a future. The past ten minutes were revelatory for her, too: she found she wanted a future.

It wasn't too hard to think about Alderaan. Sometimes it seemed like the loss overshadowed the fact it had once existed, and talking about it made it real again. "Ours was a harvest festival. Gods, how I dreaded them," she reminisced to Han. "Since I was four, I had to walk a parade. Do you know how hard it is for a four year old to stay in place for two miles?"

She got him to smile. "And then stand there and do things like award the nerf with the most points, or weigh the largest tuber and pin ribbons on coats. That was when I was older. Not that I disliked the mundane. A Princess was not allowed to complain. They used to say how I didn't smile much. I was jealous of it, is all. And my feet hurt."

"Yeah, jealous," he said. "Me, too. I worked the crowds. But instead of saying, "congratulations of the size of your tuber-" he made it sound dirty, drawled it with leering suggestion, and Leia laughed, "- I..." He hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment.

"Go on," Leia encouraged. "I have an idea what you did."

"I picked pockets."

She nodded, and took it. That's what tonight was for. "When you were four?"

"No, four I had to stay in place too. Smudge my face with dirt, stand around barefoot and pretend to cry. Watch everyone pass by with their frocre cones."

She cocked her head at him, realizing something. "Is that why you insist on buying a frocre cone every time we land somewhere?"

He smiled. "Yeah. I treat myself. They don't ever taste as good as what I thought when I stood there salivating. But then," he shrugged, "Luke seemed to really like 'em too, so I kept the tradition."

She raised her wine cup and looked wryly into his eyes. "To the Alliance. For providing her uncover smugglers, Jedi, and spies with a new tradition. A frocre treat after each mission."

"To frocre." He touched her cup and they both drank some wine.

"Maybe you can get one when we arrive at Bespin," she said.

Han chuckled. "Maybe."

The chilled wine was starting to break down the moisture barrier of their cups. Leia touched Han's again. "To first dates," she said.

"To first dates," he echoed. "Shoulda done this sooner. I didn't know you could be so nice."

She laughed at his teasing. "I guess the circumstances of our meeting dictated how we reacted to each other. We were both under a lot of stress."

"I'll say. I'm never gonna admit the rescue plan- which was Luke's, don't forget- was poorly contrived."

"And I will admit it would have been the best feeling in the world, if I wasn't so-"

"I know," Han said.

Leia nodded her thanks that she didn't have to say it. "But experiencing freedom and then coming immediately into a dead end fire fight was a bit of a let down."

He bit into his ration bar, chewing on one side of his mouth, which made him look like he was smiling at her. "I will admit jumping into the garbage masher was probably the only solution."

"Thank you," she said smartly.

"Too bad we couldn't take the time to have a first date there."

She laughed loudly. "Set aside some garbage and take a seat in a quiet corner-"

"- look into each other's eyes while Luke splashes about with a dianaga."

"I might have kissed you at the end of it. Thanking you for a pleasant evening."

"Didn't you? On the cheek? Thank me for helping save the galaxy?"

"No," Leia said kindly.

"Musta been General Dodonna, then."

She laughed again. It came from deep inside her, a forgotten place. Maybe her muscles would be sore but she felt wider. Fuller.

"To us," she said. She raised her cup once more. It felt thin in parts, and the side walls were maybe starting to collapse. They'd have to finish their wine soon.

Leia used to think that would symbolize an end. Now she asked herself if they just couldn't get a new cup. "To us," she repeated, and drained her cup. "I'll probably kiss you on the cheek tonight."

"Just the cheek?" Han said after also emptying his cup. His eyes were merry at her.

Suddenly the tape flower's own weight became too much and it fell from Leia's shirt, dropping onto the table with a flop. She picked it up, testing the stickiness at the back. She pressed it to Han's chest, pushing hard to make it stick, and his hand covered hers, assisting her.

"Ah, you got me, Princess," he said upon noticing the tape mass was adhering to his shirt, at least for a moment. "Right where it hurts."

"Rescued a scoundrel with his own creation."

He leaned forward to kiss her. "Sounds about right," he murmured.


	33. Chapter 33

Han let himself be a little upset. After all, this was Princess Leia, and it looked like a lot of blood, but she wasn't dead, at least not yet, and if he didn't panic she'd be fine.

"I'm not too good at first aid," he told her.

The Princess grimaced. "No time like the present," she ground out.

He smiled. "I like you, you know that?" he said. "You always make me feel better."

"Are you bleeding to death slowly while your partner waxes sentimental, too?"

"Oh, that was a lot of words, sweetheart. Good for you. See, you're going to be fine."

Princess Leia breathed heavily.

"It's just," Han continued, "most of the violence I'm around results in corpses, you know. Don't have to treat them."

"Fascinating. Hand me the gauze."

Han passed it over. "Figures you'd be different."

"Yes, I didn't die out of spite. Now if you-"

"Want me to hold it?"

"No, I can manage. Bacta and synflesh-"

"I got the hypo ready."

"Not yet. Not yet, Han." She was trying to hit his arm away and failing miserably. "You put me to sleep I'll never get patched."

"Sure you will. I'm hurt, Princess, that you don't recognize my bedside manner."

"It's your bedside manner that worries me."

"Ha, Princess. Wanna know something?"

"That I'll be able to walk in ten minutes, yes." The Princess leaned her head back on the ground. She looked awful pale, Han realized. He picked up his pace.

"You got pretty blood," he told her, trying not to gag at the gauze colored bright red, heavy and cold and wet.

"Of course I do," she sighed. "It's Princess blood."

"Looks nicer than mine, spilled all over the ground like this."

Leia actually lifted her head at him. The synflesh patch was holding beautifully.

"You're saying it's better that I'm wounded instead of you?" she demanded.

Han was squeezing the bacta pouch to warm it up. "Well," he said. "You can't carry me."

"I'd drag you."

He laughed.

"You-" she started to say.

"Me, what?"

"Just- you. I can't think. I hope I don't remember this conversation."

"You probably won't. I'll just go ahead and say it, since it's safe: you're pretty, and I think I love you. Here comes the hypo; don't look. I know you don't like needles."

Han carried the half-asleep Princess to a bunk and laid her gently on the mattress. He took off her boots and felt into her hair, undoing the braids so the pins wouldn't poke her. He went and fetched a blanket from the locker and gave it a sniff, making sure it was clean.

She was alseep.

The readings from the medscan were good. She'd be fine. Han sighed.

Carefully, he tucked the blanket all around her. Then he kissed her on the forehead.

"That's my bedside manner, Princess. Sleep well."


	34. Chapter 34

Icicles, and sunshine. Sparkling snow. Han was a fool, but he then he'd always been.   
  
"Don't let 'em melt, Lucky," he said to his favorite tauntaun mount.   
  
Belly deep in the  _ Falcon _ , scrounging. Where in the hells had he put that minimotor?   
  
Yeah, he was a fool. Kept that useless minimotor. "Gotcha."   
  
Teeth biting his lip, hard at work, his comm turned off so Her Highness would leave him alone.   
  
*I see your brains peeking through your mouth,* Chewie teased.   
  
Han pulled his tongue back where it belonged. "Shut up."   
  
Heart thumping at his handiwork, "No, I need to see the Princess now. Tell Her Royal Command to get to the Falcon. It's important."   
  
Worse than a fool. He couldn't stop himself. "Hey, kid. Get over here. I did something. Wanna see?"   
  
Luke's stupid eagerness. "Coming!"   
  
Han needed a power extension so it would reach.   
  
Two pairs of boots at eye level, an orange flight suit tucked into one, a white snowsuit in the other.   
  
"What's up, Han?"   
  
Han held his breath, and rolled the switch under his thumb.   
  
"You collected icicles, Captain?"   
  
Then the Princess gasped, and Han smiled to himself, because yes he collected icicles. Any fool could do that. But not every fool did this-   
  
Impaled into snowy mounds he'd built himself, his icicles were lit by a bulb that spun on a tray, powered by a minimotor. The bulb aimed at the icicles, white light breaking through prisms. In Echo Base, on the hangar floor, in a war, light rays of blue, green, orange, yellow and red danced upon in a circle.   
  
"Dancing icicles!" Luke shouted, and no, they weren't dancing icicles at all, couldn't he see-   
  
"Thank you for this moment of beauty." The Princess squeezed his arm, her eyes on his feat of engineering.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wishing you health, safety and peace for 2021.


	35. Chapter 35

It wasn't that Chewie frowned on alternate states of being. It was the way humans went about it. And they had such sensitive systems.

Wookiees didn't get drunk like that. Or use any of the numerous substances that affected sensitive human bodies. Humans had a lot of words for it, too, to describe that alternate state. Perhaps their differences were physiological. Or cultural. Humans were a social group, like wookiees, but their emotional supports were lacking. That's why they turned to alternate states of being. Wookiees weren't like that. To a wookiee, entering one was an event.

It was called meeting the other head, and wookiees did it all together. After smoking the kyckkyll leaf, they lay on their backs and gazed up at the sky, and met the other head, and when it was over they relayed their experiences to the Chief, who was the only one who didn't smoke.

Chewie had explained this once to Han, in the early days of their acquaintance, when they sat in a cantina and Han had too many drinks.

"Pshaw," Han had slurred. "I'd attack you."

*What?* Chewie had snapped. The notion was completely offensive.

"You're all out, flat on your backs, hallucinating? Is that it? Yeah. If I were a rival tribe, and I wanted your land or your food or your females or your-"

Han talked to much when he drank, Chewie had learned.

"- or just, you know, score an easy win, I'd do it when you're outta your heads."

*You have no idea what it means to be a wookiee.*

"Maybe I don't. You'd think the Other Brain or whatever you're saying would tell you that."

*We are warriors.*

"Right," Han agreed, except he was wrong about what a warrior was. "And warriors attack."

Chewie tried to be patient. *No,* he explained. *There is no honor in battle if you take advantage.* Not that the kyckkyll leaf weakened a wookiee, Chewie thought.

"Tell that to the Emperor," Han had said.

But Han listened, eventually. His other head was as dense as his present head. Drink made him sloppy, and once Chewie helped him see that- actually it involved stiffing a medcenter- he didn't let it happen in a cantina or while on a job. If it happened, not often, it was in the lounge of the _Millennium Falcon._

Chewie understood humans, though few humans took the time to look beyond their own life forms. They marked time and they had long memories, and there were too many of them.

Tonight was the first anniversary of the Battle of Yavin, which meant the base was celebrating. Chewie, in addition to Han had two other favorite humans, and all three were a large part of the reason for the celebration.

They didn't look it, though. Luke, in the middle of a rowdy group of pilots, wore a dazed, blank smile. The Princess's own smile was frozen like a grimace, sitting among the other generals and council of war. Han wasn't polite enough to smile or even join the celebration. He was holed up in his favorite spot, the cockpit of his beloved ship, no doubt scowling at the festivities taking place outside.

Chewie went into action. First he waded into the group of rowdy pilots, plucked Luke from his seat and threw him over his shoulder. The pilots cheered and Chewie roared and pumped his other arm for show. He dropped Luke onto the curved bench of the dejarik table and pointed at the youth significantly.

"OK, Chewie," Luke agreed, though he didn't know to what.

Next, Chewie approached the council's table. He looked them all in the eye, snarling, and then bowed to the Princess. He wouldn't dare throw her over his shoulder, though she'd be like a feather. She wouldn't appreciate that. So he bowed. It wasn't a wookiee movement and it felt stiff and uncomfortable, but it was what the other humans did. He spoke to her.

Her smile was smaller but more genuine, and her eyes were kind.

"He suggests you walk with his carpet," C-3PO, the most annoying protocol droid translated for her. "I am sorry I am unable to interpret that any better for you, Your Highness. I am perusing the shyriiwook data base as we speak, and I am afraid there is no other allusion in their language to a carpet, or any-"

Shocked, the droid cut himself off when the Princess stood and took Chewie's bent elbow. She had to reach up to do it, but it still looked regal. "I would very much like to, Chewbacca," she said.

All the generals scrambled to their feet.

The Princess departed with Chewie without acknowledging them. She brought him great honor. He brought her to the _Falcon._

"Hi, Leia," Luke greeted her.

"Hello, Luke."

"Seems Chewie's got a plan for us."

"All that's missing is Captain Solo."

As soon as she said that, Chewie appeared again, this time pulling the resistant captain by his arm, and pushed him onto the bench next to Leia.

"I didn't know you were here, Han," Luke said.

"Where else would I be?" Han demanded.

Luke wasn't in the mood to banter with Han. "I don't know."

Chewie returned with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. He unscrewed the cap and grunted something at Han.

"Why three?" Luke wanted to know. "Sit with us, Chewie."

"He doesn't drink," Han said.

"He doesn't?" Luke's face was screwed up. He'd seen Chewie drink before, he was sure of it.

"He smokes."

"I didn't know that," Princess Leia said. She appraised Chewie. "I've never smelled it, either."

Chewie beamed at her. She used her nose!

"Only on Kasshyyk."

"But he wants us to drink?" Luke asked.

Han's grin was sardonic. He didn't buy any of it, Chewie knew, but he was willing to play along. "He wants us to get in our other heads."

"What's that?"

Han ignored the glasses and took a big swig from the bottle. He passed it to Luke. "Let's find out."

Satisfied, Chewie nodded at Han. *I'll be in the cockpit. Watching, in case someone comes to attack you.*

Han smiled. "That's how you do it," he said.

* * *

Chewie gave it an hour. In the hangar, the pilots were dancing, though the wookiee's sensitive ears picked up no music. It was no fun, feeling embarrassed for the humans, so he ventured out into the lounge to see how his favorite ones were doing.

"Alright, alright," Luke was grinning. "I'm'll make a good guess this time."

Han snorted and reached for the bottle of whiskey.

They were faring well, Chewie decided. Under the influence, but not yet in the head they needed. Of the three, Han probably had the greatest tolerance. The bottle was one third full, so Chewie went and brought them another. Nobody paid him any mind. He squeezed himself into the chair at the engineer's station to observe them.

"I'm'll," Leia repeated. Luke was fairly drunk. Drunker than she, unless denial was a sign of inebriation. She picked up the bottle and read the label. "Fifty percent alcohol content. I might be starting to feel this."

"Nah." Han took the bottle and set it on his leg, which was resting on the table. "You are."

Leia waited for more. She reached for the bottle again. It seemed there should be more. "You are?" she said.

"Yeah," Han nodded conclusively. "Thinks oh."

"You were a rancor trainer," Luke proposed.

"A what?" Han said. "Who the hell trains rancors? You can't train a rancor."

Leia fanned her face with her hand and handed the bottle to Han.

"And you got sloppy with the vibrowhip," he continued.

"A vibrowhip'll take your face off," Han said.

"The whole thing," Leia agreed and the bottle went to Luke. "Han has a face. Only a small part that got cut."

So they were guessing at how Han got the scar on his chin, Chewie figured.

Han beamed at Leia. "Knew you'd noticed."

"Can't miss it," Leia snapped back.

"And why can't I just have a vibrowhip?" Han wanted to know. "Why I gotta be a rancor trainer?"

"I don't know," Luke said. "A story needs details."

"Thought you were guessin'."

"I don't know why anyone has a vibroanything," Luke said.

Leia raised her brows. "Vibroanything reminds me of something."

Han coughed. "I'd sure like to know what."

"It's so dangerous," Luke concluded. "To the user."

"Yeah," Han said. "To someone on the other end, too. They decide it ain't worth the bother. I got a vibroknife."

"So that's how it happened?" Leia said. "With the knife?"

"I never saw it," Luke said with a frown.

"Keep it in my boot."

Leia's fingers crawled inside the boot that was on the table.

Han didn't move, but he told her, "That tickles."

"I'm trying to find it," she said. "It can't be much use, if it's all the way down."

"What if you turn it on by accident?" Luke wondered. "Slice your leg off."

"No," Han said. He dropped his leg heavily to the floor and brought his hand down. When it came back up, the knife was in it. "It's called a boot sheath," he said.

"Bull shit," Luke said.

Han smiled. "No, I said, boot sheath."

"Specialty wear," Leia hummed. "Is there a designer just for smugglers?"

"Made to shed easily," Han confirmed.

"Jabba has a rancor," Luke murmured thoughtfully.

Ah, Chewie thought. Finally.

"D'ju know that, Han? I don't know if it's trained."

"It most definitely is not trained." Han's speech was suddenly elegant, and Chewie grunted. Han finished off the first bottle and Leia lifted the second bottle too high, or hadn't expected it to be that full, and liquid poured out past her lips.

"Oops," she said, and wiped her mouth.

"And yeah, I knew that."

"Been some year, hasn't it," Luke said.

"It's not the year." Leia accepted a rag from Han and dabbed at her shirt. "It's not all the days that come in between."

"No," Luke agreed. "It's the day. What do you think of it, Han?"

Han waved his hand. "It's just a day. And after that, for some reason the days get counted. And some things change. And some things don't."

"Yeah." Luke drank. "You know what's weird. I want the change. No. I think how it had to happen. A change. But then I don't want it to. Only I want it to."

"Not fast enough for me," Han said, taking the bottle from Luke. "Thought that was it. Didn't think the fuckers'd bounce back so fast."

"The Empire?" Leia said. "Is that what you mean by fuckers?"

Han stared at her a long time. He wasn't used to rough language coming from her, Chewie figured. It did sound odd. But she was just parroting him.

"Yeah," Han finally answered. "Now who knows when it'll happen."

Leia sighed. "It'll happen."

Chewie was glad to see she believed that even when she was drunk. Her determined grimness all other times wasn't an act, then.

"I hope so," Luke said.

"Not much has changed for me," Han said. "Still got my debt. Haven't replaced the escape pods. Lateral shields still messed up." He looked at Leia with his brows up, as if suddenly surprised. "Got a medal, though."

"Yeah, I got a medal, too," Luke said, and then he added, as if unaware Chewie was in the room, "Chewie didn't."

"He didn't," Han said.

"It was a mistake." Leia rubbed her forehead, as if the memory of the medal ceremony still gave her a headache one year later. "Technically, it's the Alderaani Medal of Freedom, and Alderaani are human. I didn't... I wasn't paying attention. General Dodonna put it together, and he's Alderaani. And you know," suddenly she half stood up, and took the bottle from Luke's clutches, "I'm going to say it. Some people aren't progressive thinkers, you know? Chewie should have gotten a medal."

"Listen to you," Luke said. "Never heard you say anything bad about someone on High Council."

Han snorted. "That was pretty tame. You hear what she calls me."

A pink covered Leia's cheeks. "Was that bad? I don't-"

"Honest," Han said.

"True, too," Luke said. "Dodonna's..." he waved a hand but didn't finish his thought.

"Say somethin' 'bout me, since you're being honest."

"You..." Leia needed a drink for courage. "You have large hands."

Han spread his hands before his gaze and then turned them over, palms up. "I'll take it," he said.

"That's a weird thing to say," Luke commented. He waited for Leia to pass the bottle to him.

"Who had medals hanging around anyway?" Han asked. "I 'member being surprised at that. Like you guys knew all along two were gonna be singled out."

"Was Chewie mad?" Luke asked Han.

Han took the bottle from Leia. "You think he was?"

"No." Luke looked thoughtful. "He's always nice to me anyway. Hey, you guys are going backwards. You skipped me."

Han placed the bottle before Luke. "Take twice as much."

"I like Chewie," Luke said.

"I do, too," Leia said. "I don't know if he understands how important his presence here is."

"He's in the room, you know," Han pointed at his copilot.

With his eyes twinkling, Chewie waved hello at them.

"Hi, Chewie," Luke said. "I don't understand a word, but hi."

Han chuckled. "You will. Maybe."

Leia was peering at Chewie with filmy eyes. "Those counted days. Not much changed for me. You either, Luke. Because what happened."

"Yeah," Luke said. And suddenly he was back on the scar, still looking at Chewie. "He's got claws," he observed. "Chewie cut you?"

Han had to find the glass quickly to spit whiskey in it. "No," he stated after he recovered.

"You're still here," Luke said. "A year later and you're still here. That's something, I guess."

"What's it worth to you?" Han wanted to know.

"Nothing, 'cause I can't pay."

"Whiskey," Leia said.

"I can't pay but I like it."

Leia put her hand on a cheek and grinned at Han. "You stay for the soldier's lottery, don't you."

"You mean who's gonna live, who's gonna die?"

"Maybe." She cocked her head at him. "But no, each pay week you can opt to contribute to the pot, and if your number is called you win."

"It's high this week," Luke said. "No one's won the past three."

Han took a drink. "I'm waitin' to add to my scar collection, how's that for why I stay."

"Your scar collection," Leia said.

"Yeah, I got one from the Navy, I got one from racing swoops- two, actually-, I got one from-"

"Birth?" Leia straightened in her seat. She had stopped drinking, accepting the bottle but immediately passing it to the next man. "You got one from being born?"

"We all do, sweetheart." Han lifted his shirt and tugged at his waist band to show his belly button.

"Oh, yeah," Luke laughed and pulled his shirt up too.

Leia shook her head. "I'm not stripping. But I assure you I have one."

"Chewie, you got a belly button?" Luke called out. "Funny, 'cause I was adopted but I still got one."

"I think we better stop." Han pulled the bottle out of Luke's hands. "Junior's gettin' pretty stupid."

"I'm not," Luke argued. "What I meant was, I know I was born, I know something happened, but I still got that scar, that connection."

"An umbilical scar is not unique. You'll never find your mother from it."

"I never said I wanted to," Luke said. "That's okay. I was told she died. And I had my aunt."

"Another date," Leia said. "With all the days in between. You were born, and your mother died, and each lifeday you have that."

"Kriff, Leia."

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay. This year sucked."

"It did."

"It was alright," Han looked between the two. "Nothing to brag about or anything."

"No scar?" Leia said with a sad smile.

"I'll have to get you two surgically removed, the way you drink my whiskey."

"That's how you got it?" Leia reached out and touched his chin. "Friends gave it to you?" She got up. "I like that answer. I hope Luke and I don't disfigure you too badly. Goodnight, Captain. Thank you for the drinks. Chewie, will you escort me to my quarters? I don't want anyone to see me wobble."

"I'll go, too," Luke said. "Thanks for this. Another escape. Same time next year?"

Chewie walked between Luke and Leia, his long arms wrapped around their shoulders, protecting them from being dragged off by revelers, replaying their talk in his head.

Han was lying about an uneventful year, but whether to himself or Luke and Leia Chewie didn't know. It hadn't been a good year. His debt was doubled, Jabba had increased the bounty and of course there was the new one from the Empire, his ship was in a terrible state of repair... Chewie could go on.

When he got back to the _Falcon_ Han was stretched out on the bench, legs hanging over the edge.

*Go to bed,* Chewie ordered.

"I'm going, I'm going."

Han made no move. As far as Chewie knew, he stayed the night there.


End file.
